#Ticklish!Tim

[amazingmsme]

Best Served Cold

AN: it shouldn’t really come as any surprise that I’m a Tim Stoker stan & that man needs to get knocked down a few pegs. The role reversal prompt was perfect for them, cause sometimes the tickle monster just needs a taste of his own medicine! Without further ado, here’s day 22’s fic!

Martin was on his way back down to the archives, a fresh cup of tea in hand. He was halfway back from the break room when a loud shriek echoed down the stone halls followed by shrill, frantic giggles. He smiled to himself, rolling his eyes fondly. It seems Sasha fell prey to Tim's antics once more.

Oh well, better her than him.

He walked down the rest of the stairs and around the corner, her laughter growing louder the closer he got closer. Sure enough, Tim had cornered her between the wall and a filing cabinet, giggling herself silly. She looked adorable like this, Martin had to admit, but he sympathized with her plight. He wasn't sure which of them he attacked more frequently...

A rare smirk settled on his face. Perhaps a bit of revenge was in order.

He crept up behind Tim as quietly as he could, but he was too preoccupied with the task at hand to notice anyway. He slowly raised his arms, a predator about to strike.

"Just one more piece! Come on, don't be stingYYYY! Hehehey whahat the hehehell?" His sly bargaining was interrupted by a shocked squeal that quickly gave way to confused laughter.

"What's the matter Tim? I thought you just loved tickling, seeing as you do it to us so much," Martin pointed out, surprisingly bold and teasing with his words, but a rare bout of mischief had taken root, and he was determined to put their resident trouble maker in his place. Sasha barked out a laugh at his words as she recovered, enjoying her front row seat to the show.

"Thahat's not- nohoho don't!" he pivoted mid sentence when Martin's hands scribbled down to his hips.

"I mean, it's only fair to return the favor, don't you think Sasha?" he asked innocently, continuing to hold Tim on his tickly hug. She made a miraculously quick recovery upon hearing those words, already wiggling her fingers at her previous tormentor.

"Oh I couldn't agree more! He's been extra annoying lately, maybe he was just waiting, begging for one of us to just snap," she finally struck, diving right for his belly. He immediately doubled over, bursting out into bright, bubbly giggles.

"I wahahas nohohot!" he denied, twisting in Martin's hold and trying to hold Sasha's hands away. A few quick pinches up his ribs reminded Tim that he was still very much a problem. He arched away with a shriek when he found a spot between his sixth and seventh rib that seemed worse than the rest.

“Noho, please! Nohohot thehehere!” his pleading went ignored as they continued to seek out the best spots.

“Alright then, how about here instead?” Martin asked as he plunged his hands beneath his arms to scribble at the center of his hollows.

“Ahahabsolutely nohohot!” he cried out through his laughter. He snorted and shook his head back and forth when Sasha reached up to flutter her nails along his neck, scribbling at the spot just behind his ears.

“NOHOHO! Ihihi hahate you bohohoth!” he whined through growing hysterics. But it was all for show. Being trapped in a tickle sandwich between your best friends wasn’t ideal, but it he’d choose that over filing any day.

“Awww, we love you too!” she cooed in a false honey sweet tone.

“N-nohot whahahat I said!” he choked out, trying to hide the blush quickly spreading across his cheeks.

“I know, but you forget I happen to be fluent in Tim Stoker sass,” she teased, scratching underneath his chin just to make him squeal.

“Ohoho fuck you!” he hissed through clenched teeth before another snort ripped free from his chest. He gave up on the useless endeavor of fighting back, instead focusing all his efforts on hiding his face.

“Aw, why are you hiding? There’s no need to be so embarrassed Tim!” Martin teased fondly, but he really meant what he said.

“Exactly! So stop hiding, and let me see that handsome smile,” Sasha taunted as she gently pulled his arms away from his face. His blush darkened and he immediately ducked his head to look away.

“Nohoho!”

“No? Well that’s a bit rude, innit?” she asked with a laugh of her own. She went back to poking around his tummy, drawing out jumpy, nervous giggles.

“This ihihis rude!” he argued, and they both gasped.

“What? We’re just sharing the love!” Sasha justified.

“And I’m simply returning the favor!” Martin added. An amused chuckle from behind made them all stop in their tracks as they turned to see Jon browsing a nearby cluttered desk.

“No need to stop on my account, I just needed to grab a few things,” he explained, eyes scanning the surface until he apparently found what he needed.

“Please, carry on. And don’t forget to go for his knees,” he advised with a teasing smirk, going as far as to wink at the crew. He was about to leave, when Martin’s voice called out and gave him pause.

“Or you could do it yourself.” And wasn’t that an enticing thought.

“I’m afraid I’m swamped,” he excused himself with a little shrug.

“Sounds like you could use a break then. And we have the perfect stress ball for you to try out,” Sasha insisted.

He stared at the three of them, all with varying degrees of a smile on their face. And they looked so hopeful, even Tim, that he just couldn’t refuse.

He sighed, setting down the file before cracking his knuckles, flashing a rare, mischievous smile.

They all could use a good laugh.

[kourtniwritesagain]

Say it with Me Now...Sleep!

A/N: I wrote a similar story years ago, but I seriously can’t find it ANYWHERE. This is my attempt at not exactly rewriting it but doing something equally as fun. So, enjoy sleep-deprived Timmy Drake-Wayne. 

Listen, Tim is well aware that he is not exactly the most forthcoming when it comes to information about his general well-being. He knows that he's technically lying. However, everyone lies, right? Like, Dick lies about having free time so he can help whoever needs it when his shoulders can't possibly hold any more weight. Jason lies about hating everyone when he loves the hardest. Damian lies about never caring about feelings when he feels the most. Duke lies about not feeling like an outsider even though everyone knows he still hasn't accepted his position in the family. Cass lies about… okay, well, Cass doesn't lie. But Bruce! Bruce lies about freaking everything. So…Tim lying about sicknesses, injuries, and sleep isn't like…out of the ordinary in Tim's family. So he doesn't really feel bad about lying to Alfred about getting a full night's sleep the previous night. 

Well, he doesn't feel too bad. 

Tim had, at one point in his life, gotten a full night's sleep. It just wasn't last night. Or the night before that…and so on and so forth. Now that Tim was thinking about it, he'd been up for a full three days. Not his longest record, but the longest in at least six months. Tim is currently working on three cases for Batman Inc., multiple marketing packages for Wayne Enterprises, and two school reports. The cases are what's taking most of his time. 

The first case has to do with Scarecrow. Tim believes Crane is working with a new supplier, someone outside of Gotham. He hasn't been able to find out who it is, but he's at least narrowed it down to either Star City or Metropolis. The second case concerns Ivy, which really sucks because she's been relatively quiet ever since she and Harley got together. Honestly, Tim isn't really sure it is Ivy, but it's got to do with these weird plants popping up around the city that shoot some kind of ichor at anyone who gets near. It wouldn't be that big of a deal if it weren't for the fact that the ichor causes blindness for up to two weeks. Tim's been working on a cure, but so far, he hasn't had much luck. Hence, he really needs to talk to Ivy. The third case deals with Victor Zsasz…or, at least, Tim thinks it does. There's been a string of near murders of sex workers in Crime Alley. Jason has been working on it for two weeks, but he's never caught anyone in the action. Jason came to Tim four nights ago to ask for help, which is very usual for Jason. Usually, he sends files and assumes Tim will help. Jason's case is Tim's number one priority. Zsasz is toying with people at the moment. It's only a matter of time before it turns into actual murder. 

So, that is why he's currently working on his third night of no sleep. The importance of these cases, Jason's in particular, is also why Tim just lied (again) to Alfred and Bruce about his overall well-being. Again, Tim's not stupid. He knows Alfred and Bruce can see the bags under his eyes, the slump in his shoulders, and the copious amounts of empty energy drink cans and coffee mugs that littered his room. They didn't call him out on it, so they must believe it's not as bad as it really is. Alfred and Bruce leave the Cave, and Tim continues his work on the Batcomputer. 

"Hey, any news on my case?" 

Tim looks up and sees Jason sauntering in, his hood under his arm. 

"Not much. I have some hunches," says Tim. "But nothing concrete yet." 

Jason sighs. 

"I'm trying, Jay." Tim mutters, feeling guilty.  

Jason rolls his eyes. "I'm not mad at you, Timberly. The sigh is in general of the fucking suckiness of the situation, not directed at you." 

"Still…I can't seem to crack this the way I want." 

"Welcome to my world. Why do you think I asked for your help? You look like shit by the way." 

Tim flips him off and then yawns, large and long. 

"The fuck was that?" Jason asks. 

Tim rolls his eyes. "A yawn, Jason. Surely you've experienced one." 

Jason walks to Tim and smacks the back of his head. "Ass."  

"You're the ass…ass." Tim replies. 

"Now I know you're outta sorts. That was the lamest comeback." Jason says. "When's the last time you slept?" 

"Yesterday." Tim lies. 

Jason squints at him. "Yeah…and Alfred is the Queen of England." 

"I'm fine." 

Jason snorts and places his hand on Tim's forehead. 

"I don't have a fever, Jason." says Tim, swatting at Jason's hands. Jason reaches down and tweaks Tim's left side. Tim immediately folds inward with a laugh. 

"Too easy." Jason smirks as he continues scribbling his fingers along Tim's ribs and sides.  

"Screw youhu!" Tim laughs, trying to catch Jason's hands as he squirms in the seat. 

"I dunno, this seems like a good way to tire you out." 

"Plehehease!" Tim is defenseless when it comes to tickling. It's like his brain decides to stop working, and all he can do is curl up and beg for mercy.

Jason spends a few more seconds poking and prodding along Tim's ribcage before he finally ceases his attack. 

"I swear, you're the most ticklish person on the fuckin' planet." Jason is grinning smugly. 

Tim knows he's got a goofy grin on his face, but he musters up a scowl regardless. "And I swear you're the biggest prick on the planet." 

"Go to sleep, Tim. I know you're on at least day two of no sleep." 

"As soon as I get some solid info on your case and finish my crap from WE, I will." 

Jason squints at him. Tim thinks for a moment that his older brother is going to argue with him more. However, Jason shrugs his shoulders, waves a dismissive hand toward Tim, and then walks out of the Cave. Tim sighs in relief and turns back to the computer. He knows he's close to proving it's Zsasz behind the attacks. He'll definitely sleep once he proves it.

^^ ^^ ^^ ^^ ^^ ^^ ^^ ^^ ^^ ^^

Tim proves it's Zsasz, but he does not sleep. There's no time. Bruce will be the one to help Jason with the takedown of Zsasz because he's a Tier-One Villain, and Batman isn't going to allow Red Hood to do it on his own nor allow Red Robin to be Hood's only backup. Tim put up a fight, arguing that he could at least help, especially considering it was Tim that figured it all out. He’s overruled by a simple ‘Hn’ from Bruce and a smirk from Jason. Tim spends the next day tracking down Ivy. Turns out, she was working the case as well. Tim corners her at a greenhouse in downtown Gotham. 

"Of course, you're the one working this." Pamela says without taking her eyes off the plant, she's currently cultivating. 

"Should I be offended by that statement?" Tim asks. Tim thinks that, although he's had a direct hand in a few of her arrests, they've at least worked together a few times in the past year to develop a good rapport. 

Pam turns to look at him and rolls her eyes. "No. I was just hoping that perhaps the Bat would be here instead." 

"He's finishing up with that Zsasz situation." Tim tells her. "So, you're stuck with me." 

"Any leads?" She asks. 

That's confirmation for Tim that Ivy isn't behind the plants. 

"None." Tim replies. 

Ivy hums in response. 

"It's not any plant I've seen. I don't think it's even from Earth." 

"Fan-freaking-tastic…" Tim sighs. This is just what he needs, a freaking alien plant. "Should probably get the Justice League on this if you think it's extraterrestrial." 

Ivy doesn't look convinced. "Must we?" 

"I think it's best, Dr. Isley. They're better equipped to find its origin and an antidote. I've been trying to make one myself, but it hasn't been as effective as I want." 

Ivy sighs. "Fine. Can I ask you to keep me posted on how this shakes up? I've had a few too many dirty looks in my direction." 

Tim nods. "Of course."

"Thanks, Little Bird." 

Tom rolls his eyes. "I'm 17 now, you know."

Pam smiles at him with a bit of fondness in her eyes and walks away. "Yes, but you'll always be a Little Bird to me." 

"Dr. Isley!" Tim calls. Pam halts and turns to look at him. "Don't let anyone look down on you, okay? Gothamites don't have the moral high ground most of the time." 

Ivy simply smiles softly at him and leaves. 

"Time to get a sample to JL." Tim mutters to himself as he harvests a few of the plants. 

^^ ^^ ^^ ^^ ^^ ^^ ^^ ^^ ^^ ^^

It's day six of less than four hours of sleep total, and it's actually starting to bother Tim. He's still so busy, though. The Justice League is taking care of the plant situation, Zsasz is in Arkham (with Jason nursing three broken ribs and a sprained wrist), and two of the three WE marketing packages are complete. However, not a single one of Tim's assignments is done, and Tim has two more cases to add to his workload. He's slumping over the desk in Bruce's office. He was kicked out of the Cave about an hour ago by Bruce, who apparently needed to have a meeting with Superman and Flash. Tim hopes it's about the plants, but he's unable to spy as he really needs to finish his schoolwork so he can start writing the reports from his previous cases. He's still trying to find the supplier for Cane, too. He’s minutes away from a full-blown migraine and typing mindlessly on the computer when he hears a knock on the door. 

"Tim? You in there?" Dick's voice comes from the other side of the door. 

Tim grunts in response. 

Dick opens the door. "What're you doing in Bruce's office?" 

"M'workin'." Tim winces at how slurred his speech is. 

"On what?" Dick asks; he's behind Tim now, leaning over him and staring at the computer Tim's working on.

"School crap, some WE stuff, and a case or two."

"How’s it going?"

Tim shrugs. 

"So, I’ve heard from a few birds you’re not sleeping much." 

Tim lets his head fall to the desk as he groans. "Tell Jason to mind his own business." 

Tim can hear the soft smile on Dick’s face. "It wasn’t just Jason." 

Tim looks up at his older brother. "M’fine. I’ve gotten a few hours here and there." 

Dick smiles that sad smile of his, which makes Tim feel like absolute shit. 

"I’m fine Dick; I promise." 

"I wish I could believe you," says Dick. "But you’ve got the worst truth-telling record in this family." 

"What?! No way! Bruce holds that title, c’mon!" Tim practically shouts. 

Dick seems to consider what Tim says. "Okay, second worst." 

Tim scowls at him. 

"Grayson, I--oh." Damian is suddenly in the room, scowling at Tim immediately. "Drake, you look terrible." 

"No one asked for your opinion, Demon Brat." Tim responds, barely stopping himself from sticking his tongue out. 

"Tt. Drake, this isn’t an insult. I do truly mean that you look terrible. When was the last time you slept? Also, are you ill?"

"You’re sick?" Dick’s voice is even more full of concern now. 

"I’m not sick! I’m just a little tired." Tim sighs, rubbing his temples. The headache he’s been trying to stave off the last three days is significantly closer than just a few minutes ago. 

"Headache, too?" Dick asks kindly. 

"Yes, because you and the Baby Assassin are bothering me." Tim mumbles. There’s no real heat behind it.

"I loathe that name." Damian says. 

Dick ruffles his hair, garnering a squawk from Damian. "It’s a term of endearment Dee. It means Timmy loves you." 

Both Tim and Damian snort at the same time. 

"Can I please finish my work?" Tim asks tiredly. He can feel a full-blown migraine coming on, and he thinks that he may be overdoing it somewhat. 

"Uh…Tim? You’re not exactly making sense with your…work." Dick winces as he shows Tim the computer screen.

"Oh."

On the screen are just a bunch of letters and numbers all over the place. 

Okay…maybe he really has pushed it too far. 

"Will you please go to sleep?" Dick asks. He bends down in front of Tim, making himself eye level. Dick places a hand on Tim’s forehead, checking for a fever. 

"I will as soon as I finish my school assignments." Tim semi-promises. Sleep doesn’t come as easy to Tim as it does to most people, especially once he’s this far gone. 

Dick sighs, but stands and motions for Damian to follow him out. 

"Drake…honestly." Damian sighs as he takes a look at Tim. 

"Damian, I’m okay." 

"Tt."

The door closes and Tim grabs another energy drink from the minifridge and downs it. With a shake of his aching head, Tim focuses on the work in front of him. 

Three hours later, Tim’s completely engrossed on the last page of his paper for his English class when Bruce comes in. He looks surprised to see Tim. 

"Oh, hey Tim. I didn’t know you were in here." Bruce says. 

"You kicked me outta the Cave," Tim replies. "And I wanted to use your two monitors. I can leave if you need me to." Tim is rising as he says this, he stumbles a bit and Bruce is by his side with Tim’s elbow in his hand. 

"Easy there, kiddo." Bruce soothes, helping Tim to sit back down. "I don’t mind you using my office. It’s free for you to use when you want. However, I do mind you almost falling for simply standing up. Are you injured?" 

"No…I-I’m fine. Just been up a little longer than I should’ve, probably." 

"He’s been up for six days." A, quite frankly, livid, voice says from the doorway. Tim’s head whips up and he sees Damian standing there, hands clenched into tight fists, and one of the angriest expressions Tim has ever seen gracing his face. Dick is behind him, and so is Jason, both looking angry and sad and exasperated all at the same time. Bruce looks shocked, which is saying something. He turns to look down at Tim. 

"Is this true?"

Tim gulps, but isn’t able to say anything because Damian cuts across him. "Do not even attempt to lie. I looked at the security footage. You haven’t spent more than two hours at a time in any one room in this house, excluding the Cave. However, you haven’t slept there either because the Cave security footage hasn’t shown you sleeping at any point!" 

"Damian…I-"

Damian raises a hand to stop Tim. "I don’t want to hear it. You may have no forethought to your health and wellbeing, but others do. And if you are going to insist on attempting to take yourself away from us earlier than what is the normal lifespan of an adult male in America, then you’re going to do so fighting me. And with the current state you’re in, it’d be an even more pathetic fight than when you’re in full form." 

Jason places a hand on Damian’s shoulder, which Tim expects him to throw off. However, Damian doesn’t. In fact, it looks like it anchors their youngest sibling. 

"Honestly Tim, six days? Even for you that’s excessive." Jason says. 

"Bed." Bruce demands. It’s not his Batman voice. It’s not even his angry voice. It’s the voice he uses when he won’t budge. It’s the voice he uses when he’s in meetings and flexing his full CEO authority. It’s the voice he learned from Alfred. It’s the voice he uses when there’s no room for argument. 

Tim tries anyway, though, because he has no sense of self-preservation. "Bruce I  need to finish my homework, I--"

"You have a death wish, Timmy." Dick sighs. 

"You can go to sleep on your own, or I can administer something to help. That is the only choice you’re going to receive for the next several days." Bruce states. Now he sounds (and looks) angry. Tim knows he’s pushing it…has pushed it. He does. He just…there’s so much he needs to do. And Bruce can’t seriously be trying to ground him. 

"You can’t ground me, Bruce, I’m 17-"

"You can go to sleep on your own or I can administer something to help." Bruce says it quietly, but Tim hears and sees the fury simmering there. 

Tim swallows again; he looks to his two older siblings and knows there will be no help. Jason looks exasperated beyond all reason. Dick looks like Tim just kicked his dog and then set his house on fire. He doesn’t have to look at Damian to know he looks exactly like Bruce. 

He’s lost. He knows he’s lost. 

"I…I may need some help." Tim admits quietly, feeling his face heat up extensively. 

Bruce’s fury melts a bit at that. "I’ll have Alfred make the tea." 

"He’s got a headache, too. Add some acetaminophen. We’ll get him to bed, Bruce." Dick says. He reaches for Tim and helps steer him out of the room and to the stairs. Jason and Damian follow. 

"You don’t have to follow me; I’m seriously going to go to my room." Tim tells them. 

"Tt. Your word on this matter means very little." 

"Sorry, Baby Bird. I agree with Baby Bat." Jason tells Tim. "You’ve seriously crossed the line this time." 

Tim hangs his head in shame.

"Not now guys." Dick retorts rather sharply. Tim doesn’t deserve Dick’s kindness. 

"M’sorry." Tim tells them as they reach his room. "I didn’t mean for it to go on this long. Honestly." 

Dick shushes him as he looks for some pajamas. 

"No. Seriously. I didn’t…I don’t mean to…" Tim can feel the tears welling in his eyes. It’s frustrating beyond reason. 

"Get dressed, and get in bed, Timmers." Dick presses a kiss to the top of his head as he and the others walk out. 

Tim does as he’s told. The tears spill onto his cheeks. He knows he’s truly screwed everything up. Everyone is furious with him. He can only imagine the lecture he’s going to get from Alfred. He’s not just going to be grounded; he’s going to be benched permanently. If he can’t be trusted to sleep like a normal human being, he definitely can’t be trusted out in the field. His head starts pounding even harder, and he stumbles into his bed with his knees curled into his stomach. 

"Tim?" Bruce is walking in, but Tim is trying really hard to get air into his lungs. He feels Bruce grab his shoulders and set him into a sitting position. One of Bruce’s hands grabs his and places it on the older man’s chest, right over his heart. The other hand grabs the back of Tim’s neck, resting there lightly. 

"Breathe with me, kiddo." 

Tim tries his hardest to focus on the beating of Bruce’s heart, of the movement of his chest rising and falling. Bruce squeezes his hand very exhale, trying to anchor him, Tim assumes. It takes some time, but eventually Tim’s breathing slows and returns to normal. It has been almost a year since Tim last had a panic attack. He forgot how much they suck. 

"Whatever you’re thinking," says Bruce. "I promise isn’t true. No one is going to kick you out, no one is going to fire you, and no one hates you or is mad at you." 

"Damian is both of those last things. And you’re all mad. I get it." Tim replies. 

Bruce hands him the steaming mug of drugged tea. If Tim knows Alfred as well as he thinks he does, there’s definitely a high dose of sleeping aid in the tea. Tim sips it at first, but downs it quickly, feeling it burn his throat. 

"Slow down there, Tim." Bruce chastises. "You don’t need to punish yourself." 

"I just wanna go to bed." Tim tells his adopted father. Bruce looks at him with those sad eyes of his, making Tim feel a million times worse, which is really saying something because he feels like dog shit. 

"Sweetheart, c’mere." Bruce climbs into the bed and lifts up his arm, offering Tim to snuggle in, which the boy does. "We’re mad, yes. We’re mad that you seem to be unable to take care of yourself properly. We’re mad that you always push yourself too far. We’re mad that we don’t catch it quick enough to help. But we’re not mad at you in the sense that is going through your head. We all love you."

Tim wants to believe it. 

"Not even Damian doesn’t hate you." 

Tim snorts. 

"He doesn’t." Bruce insists, digging his fingers into Tim’s ribs. Tim gasps and laughs as Bruce doesn’t let up. 

"Stahap!" Tim begs. Tim is seriously ticklish on his ribs; it’s one of his worst spots, and Bruce knows it. 

Bruce chuckles fondly as he brings both hands to Tim’s ribcage. Tim is letting out some serious giggles now. He’s trying to fight against Bruce, but the tea is setting in, and Tim’s not the most coordinated person when tickled. 

"Promise to sleep and not stay up for six days straight ever again?" Bruce asks, not ceasing his tickle attack. He digs his fingers in between the bones of Tim’s ribs. 

"Yehehes! I-I prohohomise!" Tim gets out, squirming madly. It tickles so damn much!

Bruce finally stops tickling. Tim sags into Bruce’s side while he rubs his ribs to get rid of the residual tickly feelings. 

"You’re too good at that." Tim tells him. 

Bruce kisses the top of his head. "You’re too easy. I think you may be more ticklish than Damian." 

Now that was interesting information. 

"Damian is ticklish?!" 

Bruce winces. "I don’t think I was supposed to mention that." 

"Oh th-thaaaat--" Tim cuts himself off with a loud yawn. 

"Bed." Bruce says, pressing another kiss against the top of Tim’s head. "No worrying either, we can talk tomorrow about better ways to keep yourself healthy." 

"G’night, dad." Tim whispers, already falling asleep. 

"Good night, son." 

^^ ^^ ^^ ^^ ^^ ^^ ^^ ^^ ^^ ^^

When Tim wakes up, he’s dazed and confused. The sun is gone and his clock tells him it’s nine at night. 

"It’s been 18 hours, Drake."

Tim whips his head and sees Damian sketching in the armchair next to his bed. 

"What?" 

"You slept for 18 hours," Damian repeats, sounding thoroughly annoyed. "Pennyworth has a plate of dinner waiting for you when you are ready to eat." 

Tim scrubs a hand down his face. "Eighteen hours, huh?" 

"With the amount of stress you put on your body, I am shocked you didn’t sleep longer." 

"Yeah…wasn’t my best plan I guess."

"Tt. Consider it your worst. That is saying something, too, as you usually have terrible plans." There’s no real heat behind Damian’s words. The two of them have grown a lot since Damian first came. They respect one another now. They work pretty well together, too. Their form of communication may look especially harsh to an outsider, but to them, it’s brotherly banter. 

Tim rolls his eyes. "Pretty sure I was the one who took down Zsasz earlier this week."

Damian looks at him. "Father and Todd took him down."

"Physically, maybe. But it was me who found out everything. So, if you think about it, it was all of my plans that took him down." 

"Tt. In your dreams, Drake."

Tim moves to sit on the side of his bed. "Hey." 

Damian looks at him once more. "What?"

"I’m sorry for scaring you," Tim apologizes. "I didn’t mean to." 

Damian replies stiffly, "I was not scared. I was mad at your stupidity."

"I’m sorry for making you mad, then." 

Damian scowls deeply at him. "Do you realize the stress you put on others when you pull these types of stunts? We have enough stress without others adding to it with idiotic decisions. You need to better care for yourself. You aren’t a machine, Drake, and you’re not alone. There are others in this family that could’ve taken a case or two. Furthermore, you hate school, so I do not understand your need to finish assignments you don’t care about." 

Tim feels really bad. 

"I didn’t do it on purpose, if that helps." Tim tells his little brother. "I get…focused, I guess. I know you guys can help me, I just…I dunno. I feel like I can do it better, I suppose. That’s really narcissistic of me, I know." 

Damian only scowls further. "You aren’t a narcissist; you’re an idiot. There’s a difference."

"How many more times are you going to call me an idiot?" Tim asks, a wry smile on his face. 

"As many times as it takes." Damian smirks.

Tim rolls his eyes this time. He stands and squats in front of the chair so he’s eye level with Damian. "I won’t do it again."

"Tt." 

Tim places a hand on Damian’s shoulder. "I promise, Damian." 

Damian looks at Tim now. "You…you are important to this family."

"Does that include you?" Tim teases. 

Damian shoves Tim’s hand off his shoulders. "Ugh. I’m finished with this sappy moment. I’m leaving."

Domain tries to stand to leave, but Tim is feeling much better after his sleep, and he’s in a mischievous mood, so he grabs Damian around the waist and pulls him into a hug. 

"Drake! Unhand me!"

"We have to hug, Demon," says Tim. "Dickie will be upset if we don’t." 

Damian is squirming furiously as he attempts to free himself from Tim’s grip. "Grayson isn’t even here!" 

"He could walk in any minute, though. I wanna make sure we do him proud!" Tim squeezes tighter, causing Damian to yelp. It reminds Tim of what Bruce told him before he fell asleep. 

Tim smiles deviously. "I heard some interesting information about you from Bruce." Tim places his hands on Damian’s sides with his fingers curled in, an evil grin growing as he feels Damian instantly still. 

"Drake…" It’s a warning, but Tim isn’t concerned. 

"Damian." 

"Whatever Father told you, h-he was clearly lying!" Damian still doesn’t move, and Tim knows it’s because every movement would tickle with the way Tim’s hands are positioned. 

"Bruce lies at times," Tim concedes. "But I don’t think he was lying about this. Tell me, Dee, are you ticklish?"

Damian’s eyes go wide. "N-No! Of c-course not!"

"Bruce said you were." 

"He lied!"

Tim shrugs his shoulders, pretending to give up. However, the moment Damian relaxes, Tim tosses the smaller boy on the bed and pounces, immediately tickling Damian’s stomach. 

"DRAKE!" Damian absolutely screeches. Tim knows he’s going to die after this, but he’s okay with it. Damian succumbs to laughter rather quickly. He has such a cute laugh, sounding and looking like the 12-year-old he is. 

"Bruce was right!" Tim crows. He scrabbles all 10 of his fingers all around Damian’s belly. The closer he gets to Damian’s sides and ribs, the louder his laughter gets, and the more he squirms. Damian seems to be like Tim, though, and super uncoordinated when tickled because Tim is still alive and breathing. Damian is swearing like a sailor at him, but that’s about it. 

"What the fuck is going on in--oh…now this is good." 

Tim looks at the doorway, not pausing his tickly assault on Damian’s torso, and sees Jason with the biggest grin on his face that Tim’s ever seen. 

"T-Tohohodd! I r-require assISTANCE!" Damian squeals out the last part of the word as Tim shoots his arms to Damian’s underarms. 

"I think Timmy requires my assistance," Jason’s grin turns more shark-like. "How did I not know you were ticklish, Baby Bat?"

Damian doesn’t answer. He’s too busy holding his middle as best he can, laughter pouring out of his mouth. His heels are drumming against the bed, and Tim is grinning widely himself. He’s never heard Damian laugh like this before. 

"Are you guys killing Damian?" Dick enters the room next. "Oh…you’re just tickling him. Try his neck next, Timmy. That’s his death spot." 

"GRAYHAYSON!" Damian shrieks as Tim lightly pinches at the back of Damian’s neck. Damian’s laughter goes high pitched. "T-TIM, pleheHEASE!" 

It went on for two more minutes before Dick rescues Damian by telling Tim to stop. Tim moves off Damian and grins down at the panting boy. "You called me by my name." 

Damian pants for another few seconds, a silly grin on his face. It doesn’t last long, though, because he soon scowls fiercer than Tim’s ever seen and then jumps at Tim. Dick catches him around the middle and holds Damian away from Tim.

"Let me go, Grayson! I will have my revenge!" 

"Sorry Dames, but Tim needs to eat. He needs to sleep after that, again--don’t look at me like that, Tim--and you need to get ready for patrol." 

Damian flips Tim off but stops struggling against Dick’s hold. Dick sets him down and grins. "Everyone’s ticklish, Damian. If you can imagine it, Tim’s probably more ticklish than you." 

"Dick!" Tim throws his oldest brother a betrayed look. 

"Oh definitely. The kid’s ribs are like a 10 on the Richter scale," Jason adds. "One poke to his ribs has him swearing his first born to you. He’s deathly ticklish on his ribs." 

"Jason!" Tim throws the same betrayed look to his immediate older brother.

"Sorry, little brother. It’s true." Dick laughs. 

Tim looks at Damian and gulps. Damian looks smug. No, he looks worse than smug. He looks like he’s plotting. 

"Damian…I-I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again!" Tim has his hands up. 

"Oh, I know it won’t. I’ll ensure the lesson you learn will keep you from making that mistake ever again." 

"Oh! Are we going to tickle Tim next?" Dick asks. "It’s been a while!" 

"You asshats are gonna leave me alone!" Tim warns. "Remember, I have lots of pictures that I can release on the internet at a moment’s notice." 

"He’s bluffing." Jason snorts. "He won’t post them on the internet, Bruce would kill him." 

Damian’s smirk grows. 

"I’m totally in on this plan, though," Jason continues. "Tickling Tim till he forgets his own damn name sounds like fun." 

Tim feels his stomach flip flop with excitement and trepidation. He’s never been teamed up against like that and has no clue what it’ll feel like, but he has a feeling he’s about to find out. 

"What about you, Grayon? Will you join in my revenge?" Damian asks. 

Tim sends a pleading look to Dick. 

"Well…he really needs to eat." Dick says. Tim sighs in relief. "But I suppose he can wait another half hour or so."

"Half hour?! The fu-NO! Nohoho!" 

Tim doesn’t do much more than laugh for quite some time.

[tickletastic]

Could you write a drabble of Connor Kent finding out that Tim Drake is ticklish and making him rate his ticklish spots while Connor tickles his armpits, ribs, sides, and feet?

AN: Anon??? This is such a cute prompt?????? Thank you????

"Kon, no. This is silly," Tim says, a giggle already on his lips. He runs across the room, putting himself in a position so the couch would be between himself and Kon. His hands are up in front of him, both of them knowing full well that Kon is not above jumping over the couch.

"A couch? Tim, are you for real?" Kon laughs, pushing his sunglasses up onto his head, "it's almost like you're just begging me to use my TTK."

Tim's eyes widen, a blush growing on his cheeks, "you wouldn't."

Kon sends a wink his way, putting the sunglasses down on the coffee table and whipping his jacket off onto the couch, "oh, I so would."

"So, would you prefer that I tickle you with my hands," Kon says, wiggling his fingers in the air, "or with my powers?"

Tim feels the ghosting of a finger poking his side, and he flinches almost unnoticeable. "Yohou know what?" Tim says, pretending to be interested in the options, "I think neither would be fantastic."

"Robin, sometimes you just make this too easy."

Tim suddenly feels the sensation of fingers running up his sides, digging into each rib once they reach them. Tim squeals, batting away hands that aren't there, giggles peppered with snorts.

"Kohohohon nohoho!" Tim shrieks, turning in circles as if it would help rid him of the sensation.

"Does it tickle, Tim? How bad, hmm?" Kon teases, smirking as Tim writhes where he stands, giggling hysterically.

"Bahahad! Stahahap! Plehehease!" Tim squeals, Kon's fingers rising higher and higher.

"How about," Kon grins, "we do a scale from 1-10? 10 being 'I'm dying', you know, because you inherited dramatics from Dick, and 0 being 'meh, I could handle it'. Sounds good?"

"Nohohoho! Plehease nohoho!"

"Alright, a 'yes' it is." Kon laughs to himself, he focuses his powers at Tim's sides again, cooing when Tim lets out a tiny hiccup. "Give me a number, Timmy."

"Ahahaha, nohoho!"

"If you don't then I just won't stop," Kon teases before managing to make a sensation similar to a raspberry on Tim's side.

"Cahahan't! Ihihihi cahahan't! I-" Tim snorts, throwing himself onto the couch, "ahaha fohohour!"

"A four? I think we could do better, don't you, Timmers?"

Tim feels the sensation move up to his ribs, and his laughter is once again characterised by non-stop, high-pitched snorts. "S- SEHEHEVEN!"

Kon grins, "getting warmer... How about here?"

Tim squeals, falling to the ground when he feels the sensations move to under his arms. He throws his head back slamming his fists on the ground as he tries desperately to rid himself of the sensations. "KOHOHON PLEHEHEASE!"

"A number, my dear, Tim, a number."

"TEHEHEN! TEHEHEN! I- NO- PLE- KOHOHOHON!"

"Okay, okay," Kon laughs, "no need to get your panties in a twist, just one more spot."

When Tim feels the sensations move to his feet, still in his shoes and socks but somehow feeling like skin-on-skin, he loses it. He screams before dissolving into frantic, silent laughter, going limp where he had curled up on the floor.

"Last one, Tim." Kon reassures, walking over to Tim and running his fingers through the black hair while his powers do their work. "Gotta give me a number, bud."

"TEHEHEN! TEHEHEN!"

"But the last one was a ten," Kon giggles.

"THEHEN- AHAHAHA- TEHEHEN AND A HAHAHAHALF!"

"Alright, alright," Kon says, using the TTK to get Tim on his lap, still running his hand through the wavy black hair.

"Yohoho- yohohu're evil," Tim giggles into Kon's stomach, fists balling up into Kon's shirt.

"Well, I am half Lex Luthor, gotta use the evil for good."

"Ohoho my gohohod," Tim giggles, "rehehemind me tohoho never get ihihinto it wihihit Lehehex."

[riisume]

Hi! Sooo, your bio says dungeon meshi requests open but ask box says requests closed so if you’re not taking them my bad feel free to ignore!! BUT— I wanted to humbly request chilchuck tickled on those very sensitive ears / neck ?

thanks so much! love your stuff <3 @thebest-medicine

Hello!! And omg thank you so much!!! n_n I was open for Dungeon Meshi rqs at the time yes!

I know this is one of the more recent rqs but I had a vision for a pose for this one and had to do it first! 🥺🥺🥺

I couldn’t fit neck tickles in with the pose and I apologize but I hope you still like it!!

Thank you for the request!! 🥺🙏🏼

[august-anon]

Training Montage

#AugTickletober2024 Days 13 & 14, Win & Lose

My first tickletober fic of the year, and my first time exploring writing with DC characters! I have been. Hyperfixating on the batfamily (which has broadened to a far larger amount of DC characters now and continues to grow, i will never escape DC lol) since like. June. So this has been a long time coming skjdfhdf

Also this fic features FULLY PLATONIC AND NOT WEIRD parent-child tickles so if that's not your thing this is not your fic!

You can blame this fic on that one quick scene in BTAS episodes Robin's Reckoning where Dick and Bruce are fencing and then start goofing off, and also the part with Bruce and Jason in @/fickle-tiction's fic For Old Time's Sake.

Also, disclaimer: i have only consumed so much canon media, very little of it so far being comics and most of it being DCAU, so my current knowledge of a LOT of these characters is very fanon-based, so the characterization will also be very fanon-based

-------------

Fandom: DC - Batfam

Ship(s): NONE/GEN/PLATONIC - under no circumstances is this Batcest

Characters (lee/ler): Switch!Bruce, Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian

Word Count: 4609 words

Summary: Snippets of Bruce training with his sons over the years.

[ao3 link]

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Dick’s training was progressing exceptionally well. He had always been fast and agile thanks to his acrobatic upbringing, but he was quick to pick up the offensive and defensive maneuvers Bruce was trying to impart. Still, he was so young. Sometimes Bruce couldn’t help but wonder what he was doing, bringing a child into this life.

It became all too apparent in moments like these, where training suddenly switched from work into play with just a few of Dick’s childish giggles. Bruce couldn’t help the grin they brought to his own face, laughing a little himself as Dick dove into the open space between Bruce’s legs to evade a grapple.

“Okay, now you’re gonna get it,” he said.

Dick kept giggling, the laughter melting into a yelp as Bruce grabbed the edge of the training mat and yanked, sending Dick crashing down onto the plush surface. Bruce launched after him, wiggling fingers outstretched like weapons.

“No fair!” Dick shouted, his giggling bubbling up into full laughter as he tried to squirm away from the hands squeezing his sides. “You cheated!”

“Oh, yeah?” 

He tripped his fingers up to Dick’s ribs, laughing along as Dick flopped around like a fish out of water. It was adorable how uncoordinated Dick became when he was tickled, all that acrobatic control flying out the window. 

“Cheating cheater!” Dick screeched, kicking his legs and rolling onto his back to dislodge Bruce. All he accomplished was opening up his stomach for Bruce to target.

“You’ve got to learn to fight dirty, Dick,” Bruce said, trying to adopt the tone he often used to give corrections in training but falling closer to amused than anything. “A mugger on the street isn’t going to fight fair.”

“A mugger isn’t gonna tickle me, B!” He squealed as Bruce’s hands tried to sneak into his armpits, clamping his arms down tight as if it would do anything to keep Bruce out.

“Hmm, you never know.”

“B!”

Bruce’s own fond laughter was cut short as a small foot caught him in the jaw, sending him down to the floor. Dick really was improving, that kick packed way more punch than any ten year old should. That was definitely going to bruise.

“That’s what you get,” Dick said through his giggles. He sat up as they slowly petered out, eyeing Bruce’s prone form. “Uh, B? You good?”

Quick as lightning, Bruce shot a hand out to wrap around a tiny ankle. He shot Dick his best evil grin. “Not bad. But you’re going to regret that.”

Dick’s squeaky, childish laughter echoed throughout the Cave once more. 

_____

Training with Jason was tricky. When he’d first brought Jason to the Manor, they could hardly share a room without Jason bristling. If he made any sudden movements or showed any signs of anger, Jason tensed and shied away as if preparing for a strike, even if he kept up his hissing and spitting and posturing all the while.

It made sparring quite the issue when preparing Jason to take up the Robin mantle. Initially, Bruce thought it might’ve helped if Dick were around more often – Jason always seemed less wary of him, whether it was the fact that they were closer in age or something else, Bruce had no idea – but these days their arguments were explosive and often had Dick not speaking to him for weeks at a time. 

Unfortunately, as it turned out, Dick being present for training only added to the tension. 

“You need to tuck your legs more for that flip.”

“I fucking know–”

“Language, Jason.”

“Yeah, Jason, language.”

“I’ll show you language–”

“Boys!”

The two snapped their mouths shut, glaring at Bruce, and he had to resist the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose and sigh. Maybe Bruce should’ve thought through giving Jason the Robin mantle a little more carefully. Maybe it would’ve minimized the sniping by at least some amount.

“Perhaps we should switch to sparring, for now,” Bruce said. “Who wants to go first?”

Jason’s shoulders tightened almost imperceptibly. Unfortunately, due to Dick focusing more on his phone than training, Bruce was the only one to notice.

Dick scoffed. “Yeah, I don’t think so, you big fat cheater.”

Bruce shot Dick a look, but his eyes were still glued to his phone as he lounged across one of the benches. He forced himself to swallow his frustration. He promised Alfred that he’d try his best not to start a fight today – Alfred wanted a family dinner tonight, and Bruce couldn’t deny that the prospect sounded nice.

Bruce led Jason into a spar, both of them tight with tension. Dick split his attention between furiously texting – probably the Teen Titan’s group chat, if Bruce had to guess – and lazily watching their spar. Eventually they managed to settle into a sort of rhythm despite the tension thrumming through them, at least until Bruce brought attention to an open window in Jason’s defense. Of course, he would never hit his children, sparring or not, but instead of the usual controlled tap he would use on Jason, Bruce forgot himself for a moment and delivered a sneaky pinch to Jason’s side.

The squeal that echoed through the Cave’s training grounds got even Dick’s attention, his phone falling smack onto his nose as he fumbled it in surprise. Everyone froze, eyes wide. Jason blinked in Bruce’s direction for a moment before his cheeks flushed bright red, completely detracting from the scowl he twisted his face into.

“I’m not ticklish,” Jason stated, his voice as close to a growl as a pre-pubescent child could get.

It took all of Bruce’s Batman training to fight down his smile. “Of course not. No one said you were.”

Jason crossed his arms over his chest, shuffling his feet. “Good. Because I’m not.”

Dick leaned forward, almost rolling off the bench, a smug smile on his face. Bruce shot him a warning look, and the teasing expression melted into a pout. It seemed as though Bruce wasn’t the only one who got a lecture from Alfred.

“Bruce has always been a dirty cheat,” Dick said instead of whatever taunt he’d cut off. 

Jason turned and blinked at him.

Dick raised his eyebrows. “He’s always been a massive tickle monster.”

“Hey,” Bruce said. “From what I remember, there was a rambunctious little boy who often asked for the tickle monster.”

Dick scowled at him, his own cheeks turning red to match Jason’s. “I did no such thing.” He turned to Jason and shrugged. “He used to do it all the time, he hated pretending to hit me so he always tickled me instead.” His eyes flickered to Bruce for a moment, a smirk growing on his face. “Good thing you’re not ticklish then, huh, Jay?”

“... Right.”

Bruce guided Jason back into the spar. This time, Jason was noticeably looser and more focused. His body still carried some amount of that wary tension, but he was no longer eyeing Bruce like he was a cornered animal. When Jason’s guard slipped again, leaving the same window open, Bruce didn’t hesitate in his attack.

“You need to watch your left,” he instructed, reaching out and squeezing at Jason’s side once more.

Jason let out another loud squeal, making Dick laugh and Bruce fail to shove down another smile. Jason tripped over his own feet as he tried to scramble away and landed on the mat. Bruce followed him down, careful to kneel next to him and leave plenty of openings for Jason to escape if he felt trapped. He wiggled his fingers against Jason’s sides, breaking into a grin at the giggles it produced.

“Bruce!”

Bruce chuckled. “Yes, Jaylad?”

Jason kicked his feet out and curled into a ball as best as he could, but he didn’t roll away from Bruce’s hands or shout at him to stop. Bruce allowed his hands to converge on Jason’s stomach as he uncurled with another kick, earning himself a bout of loud laughter that he’d never heard Jason make before. Jason struggled to thrust a hand out, reaching in Dick’s direction.

“Dick, help me!”

Behind him, Bruce heard the bench shift and the unconscious hums Dick would make when he stretched out his muscles. Then, there was a battle cry and the thudding sound of feet against the training mats.

“I’ll save you, Jay!”

Bruce braced as Dick launched onto his back – DIck definitely wasn’t twelve anymore, and Bruce worried that he’d be feeling that one in the morning – and locked his arms around Bruce’s neck. Jason got a brief reprieve as Bruce flipped Dick over his shoulder, both of them laughing all the while. Dick smacked into the mats next to Jason with a wheeze, and Bruce waited a moment for him to get a breath in before he attacked once more, a set of wiggling fingers for each son.

Dick’s thrashing was chaotic as ever as he cackled, Bruce deciding to be a bit mean and sneak his fingers directly into Dick’s underarm. Jason curled into a giggling little ball once more, jolting as Bruce gently pinched up and down his ribcage.

“B! You asshole!” Dick shrieked.

Bruce laughed. “You brought this on yourself, chum.”

Training with Jason went a lot smoother from then on, and Dick even started coming by more often again – even if it was just to see Jason and avoid Bruce. They never did manage to perfect that double-team attack to get their revenge on Bruce.

_____

Bruce didn’t think he’d ever escape the guilt he felt over how Tim’s training began. He didn’t think he deserved to either, especially when he would find Tim training on his own, working himself to the point of exhaustion or injury in order to achieve perfection. Now that Bruce was in his right mind and would end their joint training sessions at a more reasonable point, Tim would get frustrated with him and slink off to bury himself in cases instead.

When they sparred, there were no taunting remarks, no dirty tactics designed to draw a laugh out of the Batman, no playfulness as they both began to tire out and call an unofficial end to training. Tim took it all so seriously, and it was all Bruce’s fault. He did this to the boy, and now he had to fix it. He couldn’t rely on Dick to fix all the issues his “emotional constipation” caused, no matter how appealing the idea seemed. 

Unfortunately, Bruce was not good with words, and it’s not like Tim would have been likely to listen to them anyways. Fortunately, he has another idea – it’s what made Jason eventually relax in regards to training, at least. Not that Tim was Jason. He was getting better at not making those comparisons anymore.

Though it was a bit hypocritical for him to condemn, Tim had arrived at training that day already noticeably overworked. His moves were sloppy (though sloppy for a Bat was not the same as sloppy for anyone else) and he was clearly frustrated with own mistakes and shortcomings. Tim was good at keeping a lid on his temper, but Bruce could see the tension in his jaw, the furrow in his brow, the tightness in his lips. They had only been training for a fraction of their normal time before Bruce decided to put his plan into motion, unwilling to let Tim drive himself any further into the ground.

Bruce lunged forward, ducking under a sloppy block, and managed to tackle Tim to the mat, taking extra care to protect Tim’s head and neck. Tim grunted as they hit the mat, but immediately set to squirming away instead of tapping out just as Bruce predicted. Instead of grappling him and letting him get in some practice with breaking holds, Bruce levered himself up and immediately set to vibrating his fingers into Tim’s ribs. Tim yelped and and his squirming increased tenfold, his eyes going wide and shocked.

“Bruce! What are you doing?”

Bruce’s lips quirked up. “Your block was sloppy. I’m just showing you where you need to defend.” Bruce let one hand wriggle into his armpit while the other scurried down to his stomach.

“What are you– Why– What is– Bruce!” Tim’s voice went all high-pitched and warbly as he smacked uselessly at Bruce’s hands, clearly unsure how to even defend himself.

Bruce chuckled, even as his heart ached at Tim’s confusion with affection as simple as tickling. “A little laughter never hurt anyone, Tim. No reason why training needs to hurt.”

Before he could respond, Bruce’s hands jumped up to flutter around his neck and ears, just to see him scrunch up. And scrunch up Tim did, his shoulders jumping up as high as they could while Tim scrabbled for Bruce’s wrists and shook his head in an attempt to dislodge the fingers. Finally, the dam broke and Tim burst into boyish giggles, finally looking and sounding his age for the first time since he showed up and insisted that Batman needed a Robin.

And Tim had been right, Batman had needed a Robin. But it looked like maybe Tim needed a new family. Bruce made a mental note to look into the Drake’s parenting while keeping Tim in his newfound state of giggles. Hopefully after this they could convince Tim to take a nap. And if not, well, Dick had been dying for a movie night. If anyone could get Tim to take a break, it would be him.

_____

Bruce hadn’t overseen the start of Damian’s Robin training. Instead, that responsibility had fallen to Dick, though he had been wracked with grief and presumed Bruce dead at the time. Now that Bruce was back and prepared to take on the burden of Batman once again, he could see Dick’s teachings in almost every move Damian made, melding carefully with his training from the League of Assassins. But even still, he tackled his training with a single-minded determination that could put Tim or even Bruce himself to shame – that was one thing that had not changed while Bruce was lost in the timestream.

Sometimes, it seemed like one of the only things.

Still, that didn’t mean Bruce was prepared to let Damian overwork himself. He clearly had some hangups from his life in the League, and it didn’t seem as though anyone had worked it through his head that overtraining would only harm him in the long run. Up until now, during their spars, Bruce had used the same gentle taps that he’d used to train all his boys. When the next opening in Damian’s defenses came, Bruce didn’t stop to think about his actions, so used to the years of training with his other sons. He pinched gently at Damian’s exposed ribs, both to bring attention to his weak defense and to start the process of winding training down.

Damian made a startled, choked-off noise and went tense for a brief moment, but he recovered well, swiftly disengaging from Bruce’s attack. He eyed Bruce from the other end of the mat, still balanced on his toes and ready to fight despite the sweat dripping down his brow and the exhaustion Bruce could see pulling at his limbs.

“I expect this sort of behavior from someone as frivolous as Grayson,” Damian said. “But you, Father?”

Bruce allowed the corner of his mouth to tick up. “Who do you think taught it to him?”

“Tt.” Damian sneered. “As I’ve told Grayson numerous times – games such as these have no business on the training mats.” He sniffed. “Plus, I am not a child.”

Bruce stared Damian down, in all his four-and-a-half foot, ten-year-old glory. “Of course not.”

“So we may continue training without any more of this nonsense?”

Bruce allowed a full, broad smirk to cross his face. “If you don’t want to get tickled, don’t get caught.”

Damian’s eyes went wide, and for a moment he truly looked like the young and innocent boy he should have been, but they just as swiftly narrowed in determination as he lowered himself back into a fighting stance. Even as tired as he was, Damian was able to hold his own very well – clearly a skill born of necessity. Hopefully they could convince him to pace himself eventually.

But as skilled as he was, Damian was still just a child. Eventually, he slipped up and Bruce was able to slip under his defenses. A few pokes, prods, and pinches later, Damian was on the ground, red-faced as he tried not to laugh under Bruce’s tickling fingers.

“You know,” Bruce said. “I’m told it’s much better if you just let it out.”

Damian shook his head with a jerk, trying valiantly to escape Bruce’s clutches. Unfortunately for him, Bruce was well-versed in the pinning and tickling of trained child vigilantes. Damian finally broke, kicking out with a childish shriek, when Bruce started pinching the muscles just above his knees. If it were Dick or even Tim, Bruce might’ve started teasing to get into his head and make it tickle that much more. As it was, Bruce thought Damian might bite his head off if he tried. Instead he just grinned wide, chuckling along with Damian’s surprisingly shrill laughter, and kept his cooing about how adorable his son was in his own mind.

Bruce’s attack didn’t last long. He didn’t want to push Damian too far with how exhausted he already was. Not to mention, their relationship was tentative and hesitant enough already, with Damian trying to figure out how he fit with Bruce now after the relationship he had built with Dick. Bruce only kept Damian laughing for a few minutes before releasing him and giving his hair a suitable ruffle, much to Damian’s disdain.

Maybe they’d be able to figure this out after all

_____

It was rare these days for Bruce’s sons to all be in the Manor at the same time. Rarer still for them to have gathered together on the training mats, what with how many fratricide attempts had passed between the four of them. Bruce had been planning on doing some solo exercise before patrol, but now he found himself on edge as he cautiously approached the Cave’s training area.

Bruce set aside the tape he had grabbed for his knuckles, crossing his arms over his chest. “Boys.”

“Hey, B!” Dick chirped, grinning from where he hung upside down on one of the pullup bars. “Getting some training in?”

He raised an eyebrow, scanning over the four of them for injuries. “I was intending to.”

Jason scoffed from where he was stretching out on the training mats. He was in nothing but a t-shirt and sweats, the most dressed down Bruce had seen him since he’d come back to them. He wore his leather jacket like a shield these days, especially on the rare occasions he visited the Manor.

“Don’t let us stop you, old man.”

Bruce hummed, turning his gaze to his two youngest. “Tim. Damian.”

“Hi, Bruce.”

“Father.”

Dick flipped off the pushup bar with a flourish. “Up for a spar, Bruce? It’s been a while.”

Bruce scanned over the four boys again, eyes narrowing. “Did you break something?”

They blinked at him.

Dick frowned. “No– B, what?”

“Did someone crash the Batmobile?”

Tim cocked his head. “No?”

“Did–”

“Jesus Christ, B,” Jason groaned. “Is it so hard to believe we can get along for one hour?”

Bruce didn’t answer. Tim snorted.

“Fair.”

“Tt.”

Bruce looked them over for any hidden injuries one last time before he relented, turning back to Dick. “As long as your brothers don’t mind us taking up the space.”

Bruce’s sons vacated the mats, leaving just him and Dick behind. As usual, Dick was a skilled opponent. They hadn’t had much chance to spar recently, the only chance Bruce had to see him fight being out in the field, and he had certainly improved. He’d been doing this almost as long as Bruce after all, it only made sense that he’d be a formidable opponent. 

Eventually, Bruce went in for a grapple. Dick was shorter than he was, and his build much smaller due to his background in acrobatics. It was good for him to practice escaping the grip of someone larger and stronger than he was. Only, Dick’s returning grapple was much sloppier than Bruce remembered it being. He frowned, easily tackling Dick down to the mats.

Like second nature, Bruce’s fingers immediately tickled near one of the openings Dick had left in his defenses. He got little more than a squeaky yelp out of Dick before he was tackled from behind with a roar. It was a move that Jason and Dick had used often in training to mess with him, back when Jason was Robin. Back then, it wound up with both boys on the mats being tickled to pieces. Unfortunately for Bruce, Jason was now much larger and had the benefits of League training making his steps far quieter. Bruce rolled with the attack with a grunt, trying not to crush Dick under their combined weight, and started grappling with Jason instead.

“Getting rusty with age, old man?”

Bruce scoffed, trying not to smile lest he scare Jason off. He couldn’t help but feel like this was progress between the two of them. “Not likely.”

Jason was almost as large as Bruce now and matched him well in strength too, but in the end, Bruce’s experience won out. Just as he started gaining the upper hand, however, Dick launched on top of the both of them. Then Tim. Then Damian. Somewhere along the way, Jason had managed to slip out from under him, adding himself to the top of the pile. Bruce collapsed down to the training mats, pinned under their collective weight.

“That was kind of a sloppy block, Bruce,” Tim said from where he was perched on one of Bruce’s legs.

“Yeah, B, come on,” Dick said. “A mugger isn’t gonna fight fair, you’re gonna have to do better than that.”

Bruce narrowed his eyes at his children. “Boys–”

Jason clucked his tongue. “And no one to save the big, bad Batman.”

Bruce knew where this was going. He probably should’ve expected it honestly, after all those years of tickling his kids to the ground. It certainly wasn’t the first time any of them had sought revenge either, simply the first time they had decided to work together as a group since Bruce was able to take them down easily on their own (or even in duos, he recalled Jason’s Robin days fondly). He was their father, of course he knew what tickle spots would have them cackling on the mats in seconds, tears in their eyes. 

Unfortunately for them, though, Bruce had trained himself out of such reactions long ago – at least to an extent. He was well-versed in burying the sensation, blocking it out until it went away, and he could hold out for quite some time. Probably more than long enough for them to get bored. There was only one weak spot that he’d never been able to block out, but they would never–

Dick gave an evil grin from where he sat on one of Bruce’s arms, reaching out and fluttering fingers behind one of Bruce’s ears. On his other side, Jason chuckled under his breath and did the same.

–Damn it, they brought Alfred into it.

Bruce let out a strangled, high-pitched noise before clamping his lips shut. He shook his head violently, trying to dislodge the tormenting fingers, but his children were nothing if not tenacious.

“Come on, Bruce,” Dick goaded. “It’s so much better if you just let yourself laugh!”

“Yeah, B,” Tim said, his fingers resting on Bruce’s side, seemingly waiting for a signal. “A little laughter never hurt anyone, right?”

“Boys,” Bruce bit out, swallowing around the snickers trying to burst out of his throat. “Cut it out.”

“If you did not want to get tickled, Father, then you should not have gotten caught.”

He raised such little shits. His own revenge for this would be swift and ruthless. The boys didn’t stand a chance. But first, he had to free himself.

Bruce tried to twist his arms out from under Dick and Jason’s weight, the tickling not having weakened him yet thanks to him holding back his laughter. Jason scoffed and added another hand to his tickling against the side of Bruce’s neck, Dick quickly following suit. And unfortunately, with the fingers behind his ears already driving him insane, Bruce had little brainpower left to block out the sensation on his neck.

Bruce broke.

His laughter came out quick, sporadic, and embarrassingly high-pitched. He tried to jerk his head away from the tickling fingers, but with Dick and Jason on either side of him, it was impossible to escape. Not to mention, apparently his laughter was the signal his youngest were waiting for, as after a few moments they both dug into their own respective spots. Tim’s hands spidered and squiggled and dug in around his side and stomach, while Damian began squeezing the muscles just above his knee, tickling around and behind it. It took all of Bruce’s self control to not kick out and throw him off – Damian was still so small, Bruce didn’t want to accidentally hurt him.

His laughter turned loud and booming as his kids switched around their spots, tickling anywhere they could reach. It echoed throughout the training area and into the Cave proper, the bats screeching in discontent as the noise disturbed their slumber.

“Damn, old man, how did none of us know you were this ticklish?”

“There you go, B! Does that tickle? That’s what you get!”

“Sorry, Bruce, but you do kinda deserve this.”

Unsurprisingly, Damian did not add into the teasing. His tickling was vicious enough to make up for it – he clearly paid far too much attention to tactics whenever Bruce or Dick tickled him to the ground. Bruce was oddly proud.

To Bruce, it felt like years before the tickling finally tapered off, though in reality he knew it hadn’t been more than several minutes. His laughter had gone hoarse, his throat and vocal chords far more used to his fake Brucie laugh than anything this genuine for this long. There was sweat dripping down his face and neck, and his muscles ached – his upper body from trying to free himself from his eldest boys, and his legs from keeping himself tense enough that he wouldn’t kick out and injure his youngest two. And embarrassingly enough, tears had gathered in his eyes, though none had managed to fall free just yet. As his boys climbed off him, Bruce could do little more than lay there and gasp for air, pushing down any residual laughter as he tried to compose himself.

“I see the revenge was a success,” Alfred said from the edge of the training mats. There was a water bottle in his hand, chilled and dripping with condensation. Bruce reached for it gratefully.

“Traitor,” he murmured under his breath.

Alfred heard it anyway, based on the unimpressed eyebrow he raised at Bruce. “If I remember correctly, Master Bruce, Master Dick was not the only little boy who ran around asking to play Tickle Monster.”

Heat flooded Bruce’s face as his children burst into laughter around him. He chugged down the water he had been given to hide the fact that he had no retort for that. Still, there was no mistaking the fond smile on Alfred’s face.

After all, a father always knew what tickle spots would take down his kid in seconds.

[13phantom13angel13]

Not Fair!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I am so terribly sorry about this being late! To whoever requested “This isn’t fair” with Bruce vs the batkids, here you are! I hope it’s to your liking! It’s a bit long but I’m hoping it’s a strong comeback from my unplanned hiatus. Also, the ending kinda sucks. Sorry! 😭 Much love! ❤️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bruce was screwed and he knew it. He was tricked. Bamboozled. Taunted into his current situation. Tim, Jason, and Dick challenged him to a group sparring match. Little did he know, it would be the three of them against him alone. So when he found himself pinned on the mat with all three of them holding down one limb or another, he knew for a fact he was in for an unpleasant time.

“This is so not fair.” Bruce grumbled at them.

“Life isn’t fair, highness.” Jason stated as he tightened his grip on Bruce’s wrists. Bruce looked up at him with a flat expression.

“Don’t you pull a Princess Bride on me.”

Jason’s only response was a cheeky grin. Bruce looked up at Cass, Stephanie, Duke, and Damian with pleading eyes as they all watched on with amused smiles.

“A little help here?”

“Nah. You got yourself into this one, fam. Find your way out of it.” Stephanie replied. The others nodded in agreement. Bruce grumbled at them.

Tim, Jason, and Dick all exchanged glances with each other with mischievous grins and nodded, all three coming to a silent agreement.

What Bruce didn’t know is that the three of them had been planning this for a while. The man had been tormenting them for weeks. He would randomly sneak up on them when they weren’t paying attention and tickle them to tears. They got tired of Bruce’s reign of terror and decided to gang up on him as revenge.

Dick, who was perched on Bruce’s ankles, cracked his knuckles, gaining the man’s attention. Bruce looked down at the younger man with a confused expression; until he saw the wiggling fingers. His eyes went wide.

“No. Nonononononono! Don’t even think about it!”

“Oh. We thought about it. And it’s gonna happen.” Tim responded from his place on Bruce’s knees. Damn these kids for outsmarting him! One on one, he would’ve been able to hold his own. But with the three of them together? He was about to be on for a rough ride. And he was.

Dick very gently traced his fingers down Bruce’s feet, causing the man to jump with a startled yelp. The mischievous grins widened. Bruce was getting increasingly more nervous.

Jason struck next, fluttering his fingers into Bruce’s armpits. He somehow managed to choke back a laugh with that one; a strained noise escaping him mouth.

When Tim spidered his fingers over Bruce’s stomach, the man was a goner. Bright giggles flooded out of him with no hopes of stopping.

“Nohohohoho! Hahahave mercy!” Bruce giggled.

“Nice job, Replacement. You found his weak spot.” Jason smirked at Tim. Tim rolled his eyes at the nickname.

“Power of deduction, I guess.” Tim shrugged nonchalantly as he continued. Jason moved down to Bruce’s ribs as Dick remained where he was, fluttering under Bruce’s toes. Bruce jerked as he giggled harder.

“Bohohoys! Plehehehehease! Dohohohon’t tihihihihihickle!” Bruce pleaded, his pleas falling upon deaf ears.

“Uh, esqueeze me, sir? You don’t want us to tickle you?” Dick inquired sassily.

“That’s rich coming from you! You’ve been a menace towards us for weeks!” Tim exclaimed.

“Aw! What? The big bad bat can’t handle what he dishes out?” Jason cooed in a taunting manner. Bruce knew this was only going to get worse as Jason and Dick’s tickling fingers also converged on his stomach. When did Dick get up? He didn’t even notice! Bruce’s giggles turned into full blown laughter by that point.

He attempted to curl into a ball to protect himself against his sons, but that proved unsuccessful. Someone’s hands moved towards his sides and his back arched off the mat with a loud squeal. Jason laughed.

“Oh my god! You sounded like a girl!”

“Shuhuhuhuhuhut uhuhup giggles!” Bruce snarked at him. Jason let out an offended gasp as Dick and Tim tried to restrain their giggle fit.

“How dare you! You take that back!”

“Nehehehehever!” Bruce cried out defiantly. “You sohohohound cuhuhuhuhute whehehen yohou gihihihiggle!” Jason’s face turned bright red as his jaw dropped in shock. Tim and Dick’s laughter started to mix in with Bruce’s by that point.

“The absolute audacity!” He cried as he tickled Bruce’s sides more. “Take it back! Take it back or I won’t stop until you cry!” Jason’s hands came back to his stomach. At that point, all three of them were tickling Bruce’s stomach like there was no tomorrow. Bruce’s laughter turned into wild cackling before falling silent a moment later.

Damian was the one to break the silence of Bruce’s agony.

“I do believe father has withstood enough torture for today.” He motioned towards him.

“Yeah. His face is getting awfully red, guys. I think it’s time to call it quits.”

The boys all looked at Bruce, looked at each other, and nodded as their hands came to a stop. They got off of Bruce to give him some room to breathe. The man sucked in large amounts of air as residual giggles slipped out of him. He looked up at his torturers. Jason squatted down next to his head with a dangerous look in his eyes.

“Next time you decide to come after us, even Superman himself won’t be able to stop us. Got it?” Bruce nodded weakly. “Good. Good talk.” Jason patted his cheek before standing up. All the kids walked out of the cave leaving Bruce to recover in peace.

Next time, he’ll have to remember to never agree to a ‘team sparring match’ again. Those heathens.

[thetickleeraven]

What's That Under My Armor?

Delicious in Dungeon

Summary: Laios gets a mysteriously ticklish feeling on his abdomen after putting on his armor. [THIS IS A TICKLE FIC]

REMINDER THAT THIS BLOG WILL BE DELETED WITHIN THIS YEAR (probably) AND ALL MY FICS WILL BE ON AO3 FOREVER.

>>>BOOKMARK MY AO3 HERE<<<

---

Laios took another slurp of his soup, happily soothing his rumbling tummy. Yesterday had been another long day in the dungeon and a long time to meal prep, but, as always, the meal at the end was worth it, and lucky them, they had plenty of leftovers for today's breakfast.

They had set up camp near a stone building that was falling apart at the seams. There were no beds inside nor roof overhead, so camping just outside the building, closer to the fountain nearby, was an overall better decision.

Senshi was telling a story near the campfire while everyone ate and listened. Good company, good food, good banter; mealtime was easily Laios' favorite time of the day.

In the middle of Senshi's story, the group was startled by a loud thud from the building they were camped next to. One of the tapestries had fallen. At the noise, Laios jolted and turned towards the sound, sending some of his soup spilling over his shirt and the chestplate of his armor he had sitting next to him.

"Oh, crap." Laios groaned at the mess and, worst of all, waste of food.

"Clumsy as ever." Chilchuck huffed and rolled his eyes.

Laios looked around for any type of napkin to clean himself off, but found none. He picked himself off the floor and jogged over to the torn up tapestry. He ripped some of the cloth and hurried back to his armor.

"You're using a tapestry to clean up your soup?"

"Hey, we don't have anything else and it's already torn up! What's the harm, right?" Laios explained as he began wiping down the inside of breastplate where the soup had fallen. He then took off his shirt, now with a giant stain, and wiped the leftover mess on his chest.

"Agh, this cloth is terrible. It's shedding all over me."

"Shedding?" Marcille asked.

"It's coming apart, I'm covered in little bits of cloth." Laios wiped some of the bits off of him, but most of them stuck to him like glue.

"So you've got some lint on ya, big deal."

"Chilchuck's right. Just put your shirt back on and have another bowl of soup. A little string and and a stain on your shirt isn't gonna ruin your day." Senshi said, pouring him a new bowl of soup.

Laios sighed and nodded before taking a seat closer to the campfire and reaching for the new bowl. The leftover cloth bits were a little itchy, but he's dealt with far worse in the dungeon than a little itch on his abdomen.

The group continued their conversation like nothing happened, aside from Laios' occasional scratching at his midriff. God that fabric was awful.

"Alright, I think it's about time we get going." Senshi said as he began putting away the dishes.

"Sounds good. I'll start putting on my armor." Laios always took the longest to get ready, mostly because heavy armor took like ten minutes to put on. By the time he'd get his armor on, camp would have already been cleaned up. Better start soon.

He turned and began absent-mindedly putting things on. It was a daily routine at this point. As soon as he had his armor in hand, he turned back to keep his eyes on his friends, tuning into their conversation while he went through the motions.

Last of his armor was his chest plate. He had slid it on and was adjusting it to be where it needed to be when he felt something off. He furrowed his brow at the squirming feeling but remembered the stupid tapestry. He rolled his eyes. That was going to be an annoying feeling all day. Maybe he needed to jump in a body of water.

Laios began twitching. Okay, that feeling was definitely different from before, like something was crawling over his shirt.

"You alright, Laios?" Marcille asked, noticing her friends' jerking and twitching. The group now had all eyes on the resident knight who looked very concerned and confused.

Laios' face twisted into alarm as he felt the crawling creep up the shirt, off the fabric, and into his underarms.

"W-Wait!" Laios stuttered out.

"What?!" His three party members asked in unison.

The blonde's face reluctantly contorted into a big goofy grin. "C-Crahap!" He let out a choked giggle. Laios began frantically trying to remove his armor but could barely muster the strength to lift his arms with the sensation marching across his skin.

"Uh, are you gonna tell us what's going on or do we have to guess?" Chilchuck asked, raising an eyebrow.

Laios was starting to panic. Whatever was causing this was HORRENDOUSLY ticklish and, worse, was crawling towards the most ticklish part of his body.

He was biting his cheeks and tensing every muscle in his body, trying desperately not to collapse laughing. Every time he reached up to try and take his armor off that terrible sensation kept his arms glued to his sides. It was a matter of time now before he broke.

Think. What the Hell was going on?

At first he thought it was the tapestry. Something about the cloth? What cloth would do this? Maybe there was a monster involved?

"Are you sick? Did you get food poisoning?" Marcille hurried to Laios' side, at a complete loss for how much concern or alarm she should be showing as she had no idea what was going on.

"Why would he be smiling, though?" Chilchuck pointed out.

It would make sense if it was linked to the cloth, considering bits of it are stuck to the armor and his body.

The cloth can't be alive. Maybe something that eats the cloth?

Wait.

That's it!

"Spit it out, boy!" Senshi shouted right as the crawling started across Laios' belly.

"DUHUHUNGEON CLEHEHEHEANERS!" Laios exploded in laughter and fell to his side, clutching his middle and helplessly lost to the torturous sensations.

The three other members exchanged confused glances.

"I think you'll have to be more specific." Senshi said with a furrowed brow.

"Yeah what do dungeon cleaners have to do with you laughing your ass off? What, dungeon biology is suddenly a comedy gold mine?" Chilchuck stared at him, completely bewildered.

"Ihihihin my ahahaharmor!" Laios laughed, kicking his legs on the ground in hysterics.

"Oh!" Marcille clapped her hands as everything clicked for her. "The tapestry is seen as damaged dungeon. Some of it was still in your armor. If you put it on without looking, that means you could've missed a bunch of dungeon cleaners doing their job, and now they're all over you."

"And now they're... tickling him?" Chilchuck questioned.

"I don't think they're doing it intentionally. I think their crawling just happens to be ticklish to him." Marcille calmly explained as if there wasn't 200 pounds of armored tall-man cackling like a damn hyena on the floor.

It wasn't just the crawling, Laios realized. They were cleaning the leftover tapestry on his person too, eating the cloth scrap off his bare belly and chest and in the name of all that is holy was it ticklish-

"How long do we have to deal with him like this? Chilchuck sighed.

Marcille winced. "Dungeon cleaners can take a long time to clean. Plus, I don't even know if they can get out of his armor on their own."

"Well, we'll have to pull the armor off Laios and help get the little buggers off him." Senshi huffed, putting down the dishes he was packing away.

"Ugh, fine. Let's rescue Laios from the dungeon cleaners." Chilchuck picked himself up off the floor and the three approached the tall-man who was quite literally rolling on the floor with laughter.

"Ihihihit tihihickles sohohoho BAHAHAD!" Laios squealed the last bit as a few travelled over a particularly sensitive spot.

"Yeah, yeah, big guy. We're here to help."

"I'll grab him and try to hold him steady while you two get the chest plate off of him." Senshi directed. He cracked his knuckles and reached down, grabbing Laios by the waist and holding him up in a steady sitting position.

The other two grabbed his chest plate and tried to lift it up but we're stopped by Laios' arms.

"Laios you have to lift your arms up."

"Ihihihi cahahahan't." Laios was nearly in tears from the tickling. "Ihihihi'm tryihihihing Ihihihi swehehehehear!" He lifted his arms a few inches above his waist but couldn't muster much more than that.

Senshi wordlessly let go of his waist and grabbed his wrists, hoisting them far above his head so the other two could begin working off his armor.

Laios' laughter grew more frantic as he could swear the dungeon cleaners were travelling back up to his now pulled-taut underarms.

"Pull it together, man." Chilchuck sighed as they were just starting to get the damn plate above his elbows.

"Ihihihihit's sohohoho hahahahard!" Laios wheezed in between bouts of cackling, a tear now falling from his right eye. "Ihihihit tihihickles sohoho bahahahad!"

"There!" Marcille shouted as the two got the armor to Laios' wrists. Senshi released Laios' arms so the pair could quickly pull off the plate and throw it aside. There were a few dungeon cleaners still on the plate, but it seemed most of them had ventured down Laios' shirt.

"Now let's see how bad this infestation really is." Senshi let go of Laios' wrist so he could yank up the tall-man's shirt. Sure enough, there were dozens of tiny little dungeon cleaners going to town on his belly and chest.

Marcille shivered. "Ew, that's so creepy."

Laios was finally starting to feel hope this would end soon. He was just starting to let relief flow through him when he felt something that made him stiffen. One started crawling-

"NOHOHO!"

-right into his bellybutton.

Instantly Laios began thrashing like his life depended on it, practically screaming in desperate laughter as the little cleaner had apparently found something to clean in his navel of all places.

His party members stepped back as he became a whirlwind of flailing limbs. Just as he was getting help, he had become a danger to everyone around him.

"STAHAHAHAHAP! PLEHEHEHEHEASE GEHEHET THEHEHEM OHOHOHOFF!" Laios cried, tears streaming down his burning face.

"Well stop thrashing and maybe we will!" Chilchuck shouted.

"He can't help being ticklish, boy. He's acting how his body's telling him to act." Senshi lectured Chilchuck as he stretched his arms. "Unfortunately we still gotta help him even with him whipping his arms every which way. I'll grab him and keep him steady, you two get all those little buggers off of him."

The pair nodded and waited for their cue. After a few moments of waiting for an opening, Senshi grabbed both of Laios' arms and pinned them to the ground.

"Just approach from the side so he doesn't kick you." The dwarf advised.

The two did as told and each took a seat next to the tall-man who was still cackling and and wheezing.

Marcille eyed the crawling critters on Laios' belly and cringed. "Do we really have to?"

"We got to get going through the dungeon again and, I don't know about you, I don't want to tug a laughing Laios the whole way through." Senshi said.

Chilchuck got to work plucking each cleaner off the thrashing man while Marcille watched with an uncomfortable expression. He'd scratch at a spot with his fingernail to loosen the thing's grip off Laios' skin, then pluck it off with his finger and thumb to toss it to the side. The process, admittedly, was still ticklish to poor Laios.

"PLEHEHEHEASE! THEHE- THEHEHEHE NAHAHAVEL! GEHEHEHET IHIHIT OHOHOUT PLEHEHEHEHAHAHAHA!" Laios pleaded, begged, cried for relief from that one specific cleaner. The rest he could maybe bear but that one in his bellybutton was driving him to insanity.

Chilchuck groaned reluctantly but acquiesced and stuck his finger in Laios' navel to claw out the cleaner there. As Chilchuck's finger made contact Laios' whole body jolted enough to have Senshi struggling to keep hold. Laios' laughter was growing, causing his core to absolutely ache from strain.

"Sit still, idiot. I'm trying here."

Laios' only response was some hysterical babbling and more tears streaming down his face.

"Got it!" Chilchuck pulled back with the problematic little cleaner sitting on the tip of his finger.

Immediately Laios calmed down. He was still giggling uncontrollably from the rest of the cleaners, mind you, but he was worlds away from where he had been mere seconds earlier.

"Th-Thahahahahank yohohou." Laios laid his head back as his fighting and thrashing finally calmed down. The rest of the cleaner removal went smoother, though still full of laughter.

Finally, the last one was pulled off and thrown aside. Senshi released Laios' arms and the tall-man instantly curled into a tight ball, giggling exhaustedly.

"Well that took forever." Chilchuck said.

"Let's learn to pay more attention to things, huh, Laios?" Senshi patted his back and stood up, heading back to the pile of dishes.

"You okay?" Marcille asked softly, crouched next to his head.

Laios was an absolute wreck. He was panting like he hadn't taken a breath in days. His face was burning red. He had messy tear track stains across his face. His hair was a wild mess. His core ached as if he had planked for a thousand hours. And his abdomen was buzzing, just barely on this side of ticklish.

"I'm," Laios hiccuped. "okay." He sighed with a wobbly tired smile.

"I had no idea you were that ticklish." Marcille sat beside him.

"Oh yeah, really bad."

"You don't say."

They both chuckled. Laios sat up beside Marcille.

"Falin and I used to get in constant tickle fights when we lived together. I had strength on my side, but it doesn't take much to bring me down so Falin usually won." Laios rubbed his neck.

"It's good information to know." Marcille gave him a mischievous smile.

"Please no more tickling." Laios put up hands to guard himself. "I was just tortured."

Marcille put her hands up in a placating gesture. "Oh, I'm not going to."

Laios let out a sigh of relief.

Marcille stood. "Today at least."

[justkiddingguys]

Batboys Tickle Headcanons

A/N: FORGIVE ME BUT I’M GOING INSANE OVER THESE MFS JUST LET ME RANT IM SO NEW TO THE FANDOM THEYRE SO CUTESY LMAO. Again, this is purely on vibes, im so new to this fandom. Also it’s 1 am this may or may not be coherent.

Warnings: Tickling (duh) but all SFW, cursing ig

Including: Damian, Tim, Jason, Dick, Bruce

Damian:

Youngest first lol

Lee:

Okay, so this kid hadn’t been tickled in his LIFE until coming to live with Bruce right

And I like to think the first time Bruce does it they’re already decently comfortable with eachother, yknow??

And Damian is BAFFLED cause WTF is this??

He tries to fight his way out of it for sure

But when he can’t it’s one of the few times anyone gets to see him ACTUALLY acting like a kid

He’s throwing out threats left and right

ANGRYY lee. He doesn’t really mind it but his pride cannot handle it lmao

I’d say his worst spots are his armpits and sides. Little scratches on his neck get him FLUSTERED though cause he has to scrunch up his neck and make a face and agghh

Overall very angry

He can get away from it most times (baby assassin)

He might allow Bruce or Dick to get him on occasion though :3

Ler:

Okay so obviously he doesn’t have the size advantage

But he enjoys getting one in on his siblings

When he can he’s a little shit

During training?

Nonchalant teaser

“How unfortunate, you’ve lost. Why are you smiling about that?” (Completely kneading his opponent’s nearest un-coverable spot)

“Pff- Damian stahp-“

“Stop what? I’m not hurting you”

Not something seen often, but it is mean

And embarrassing, cause you’re getting overpowered by a child bro 💀💀

Tim

Lee

Another neglected child smh

He’s not as foreign to it as Damian, but it’s still prominent lmao

He’s been tickled briefly before once or twice sure

But longer than a few seconds??

He doesn’t know what to do with himself

Snorts

Craves affection, so he definitely brats his way into tickles often

If you tease him about that though he will die

He’s super duper sensitive, so if he’s wrecked he’s WRECKED, but light tickles make him flustered beyond belief

T-word teases also fuck him up

Has been tickled to sleep out of necessity because omg he NEEDS it

Also cheer up tickles cause he gets in his headddd

His laugh is so cute, it sounds like he’s trying not to laugh even when he’s cackling

Is not above begging. Begs often.

His worst spots are his knees and ribs

AGSHSHSH Dick has done the rib counting thing on him

“Come on, count with me. You’re a genius, Timmy, can’t you count?”

“BFFFAHAHA sHIT Dihick-“ (more concerned with covering his face than anything at this point)

“No no, that’s not a number, let’s start over. One rib…”

Ler

Another one who I can’t think of many scenarios he’d actually end up in that position

But I picture him as such a cute ler

He’s teasing, don’t get me wrong

But it’s so soft, yknow?

Like sure, he’ll wreck your shit

He’s AMAZING at figuring out bad spots

But his teases are like

“Aw, that tickles? Does it really? Hm. That’s sad.”

“Stop? Why? I haven’t seen you smile this much in forever!”

AND IT IS SOFT WITH MALICIOUS INTENT

BUT IT IS SOFT

Jason Todd

Lee

ANOTHERRR ANGRY LEE

Not necessarily as irrational due to obvious slight maturity level differences between him and Damian

IF YOU CAN PIN THIS MAN DOWN

The curses are worth it

Pretends he HATESS it

But he does not :3

He’s too pussy to brat his way into tickles

But if he’s in a mood he’ll sit annoyingly close and just… stretch his arms up. Ever so subtly.

He’ll deny his intentions to the second grave though

He’s a kicker

Gets pissed off at regular/mean teasing but

“Awww Jason, your laugh is so cute”

“Cmon, let’s see that smile”

Any soft cooing and he is GONE

Yeah he’s still throwing fuck you’s around like rice at a wedding

But he’s covering his red ass face too

Worst spots are his hips and stomach and that PISSES HIM OFF

Using words like belly or tummy to tease have him utterly broken

Ler

Mean mean mean mean

Mean ler

Instigator

Absolute little shit

Oh my god he’s so teasy

No boundaries

“Wow, you’re REALLY ticklish, huh? Especially right here in this spot, here. Mhm. Yeah, you are, look. Stop? No? Awww come on. We both know you wanted this”

Will not be soft unless he’s doing it for a purpose

Enjoy’s wrecking Tim’s shit regularly

I cannot emphasize this enough: MEAN

He will not stop digging his fingers into the utter WORST spot until he’s satisfied that his victim is about to die :3

And he’ll tease them about it for WEEKS

Dick

Lee

TEEHEE TEEHEE

He’s the only mf on this list not embarrassed as fuck about tickling

He gets in a lee mood and EVERYONE knows

Giggly little bitch is silently begging for it

And he doesn’t even ask the ler to stop, he just lets it happen 💀

Like he’s just laying there, no shame

He has to have a bad spot on his legs, specifically thighs

Honestly I think the only way he’s blushing about it is if you tease him for NOT blushing about it

“Awww, you love this, huh? Look at that grin. Maybe I’ll just keep tickling forever, since you’re enjoying yourself so much”

Ler

Big Brother Ler ™️

Designated cheer-up tickler

He’s definitely the softest teaser

All compliments and coochie coos

Unless you’ve fuckin crossed him.

Cause he CAN get mean

Sweet tickles: “Hmm, I love that smile. You’re so cute when you giggle like that. Yeah I know it tickles”

Revenge tickles: “So what was it you were saying earlier? No say it. Go on.” (going insane on the WORST spot imaginable) “What? Sorry I can’t hear over all the laughing. Damn you’re ticklish. Oh you don’t like that word? Hm. Tickle, tickle tickle…”

His fingers are so fast and he IS more flexible than ANYONE and there’s no escaping, no moving. Just a big Dick Grayson Grin in your face.

[thebest-medicine]

Hi! hello! how’s it going? I was just wondering if your still doing requests for fics and if so can I pretty please have lee!Chilchuck ler!Marcille with the prompt “Big talk for someone so ticklish.”

Prompt 21 - “Big talk for someone so ticklish."

A/N: yessssss!!!! thank you for the prompt I love this series

…

“Hmmph.” Marcille huffed getting nowhere in their little argument. She glanced up, having an idea, and caught her companion’s eye. “Big talk for someone so ticklish.”

“Wha-?” Chilchuck froze where he stood, his eyes wide and his face falling in horror as he looked at the mage. “Y-You wouldn’t..” He stuttered.

Marcille smirked at that. “Oh, I’ve done a lot these days that I never thought I would dare try.”

He scrambled back, away from her. “Marcille! DON’T!” He was off in a flash, scrambling away from the suddenly terrifying mage.

“I’m gonna getchu!!” Marcille teased, giving chase to the half-man. “You can’t get away on those ticklish little feetsies of yours!”

“SHUT UP!” Chilchuck wailed ahead of her, rounding a corner on the floor they were staying at in the dungeon. At this rate, he hoped he’d run into a mimic to distract the party with.

…

[more sentence starter fic prompts]

[other sentence starter fics]

[read this & further dunmeshi drabbles on ao3]

[autisticallyasexual]

what the Willoughby

SPOILERS FOR THE WILLOUGHBY’S MOVIE!!!

first tickle fic

Lee: Tim

ler: Nanny

ok so y’all know that one scene in the willoughby’s? Where the Nanny has come to bust him out and he says something about his Willoughby family not being great? And she hits him with a pillow? I was thinking it could go more like this…

“all I wanted was to be part of a great Willoughby family.” Tim stated sadly. Then he flinched.

poke

”he-hey!! What the Willoughby?!” He cried out, startled. Nanny—disguised as “phill”—had poked his side.

“are you saying Jane’s not great?”

another poke to the side. He tried to protect it, but Nanny gently grabbed his tiny arms and held them steadily.

“w-what? No-HOho! Thahat’s not—“

A quick spider tickle to his side this time.

“Barnaby A’s not great?”

“nohoho, I—“

another spider up his exposed side

“Barnaby B’s not great??”

“Nohoho, nahat what I was—“

She squeezed Tim’s ticklish flesh, and he cackled.

“You’re not great?!”

“NohoHOHoho!!”

Nanny let him go, and he rubbed his side to get his of the phantom tingles.

“C’mon, then. Let’s blow this pop stand bro-bro.” She said in her low voice, imitating phill.

Tim put his hat on before replying, “let’s do it, brother brother.

end!

[amazingmsme]

Like Magic

AN: So this is a bit of a different spin on the prompt, but anything to write more TMA! Idk how the rest of this month is shaping out to look like for me, but I’m gonna try to finish things. Please be patient as I try to finish these fics. Here’s my fic for day 18!

Martin rolled his eyes for the umpteenth time as Tim droned on about how such great friends he apparently was with one Jonathan Sims. Of course he wasn't buying any of it. But that didn't mean he wouldn't play along.

"Wow, ya don't say?" Martin said breathily, sarcasm still evident.

"Yup! He even said so himself!" Tim proudly proclaimed. Martin raised his brows in shock.

"He said that you are the funniest one here?" he asked skeptically. Tim scoffed.

"Why'd you say that like it's hard to believe?"

Martin shrugged. "B-because it is! I mean, it's Jon we're talking about. Does... does he even have a sense of humor?"

Tim shook his head with an amused chuckle. "Oh Martin, always so naive. Everyone has a sense of humor if you know what tickles their funny bone," he winked, nudging him with his elbow.

"Yeah but, he just doesn't seem like the giddy type," he reasoned.

"Well, you just don't know Jon like I do. What can I say? We have an unspoken bond between us. I can make him crack up with a single look," he boasted, and that was where Martin called it.

"Oh you can not!"

"Wanna bet?" he asked with a crooked grin, wiggling his eyebrows at him. Martin opened his mouth but abruptly snapped it shut when Jon walked into the break room. Tim also shut up, hands shoved in his pockets. Jon looked between them and snorted, walking to the counter.

"If you're going to talk behind my back, I suggest making it less apparent," he casually teased.

"N-no, it's nothing like that!" Martin assured him.

"I was just telling Martin what great friends we are!"

"Hm, that's news to me." Jon barely hid his smirk  at the way Tim cried out indignantly.

"Ouch. I'm hurt Jon. You hurt me," he said, pointing an accusing finger. Jon grinned smugly, turning back to the kettle. He poured himself a cup as Tim walked back to the couch, flopping down next to Martin with a pout. Martin looked about as smug as Jon.

"What?" he snapped.

"You're so full of it," he said softly, an amused smile firmly in place. Tim shoved his shoulder.

"Oh sod off! You know, that last part was actually true," he said, and something in his voice seemed genuine enough for Martin to feel inclined to believe him.

"Really?" he asked, casting a quick glance Jon's direction. Tim followed it, nodding.

“Oh yeah. It’s a little magic power of mine,” he bragged, wiggling his fingers in a twinkly magic kind of way. Martin snorted in amusement.

“Magic, okay, sure,” he said with a roll of his eyes.

“Oh you don’t believe me? Here, I’ll prove it,” he said matter of factly. He hopped to his feet, sauntering over to the counter next to Jon. He looked over his shoulder at Martin, smug smirk already in place. He turned his attention to Jon, leaning his hip against the countertop.

“So how’s your day been so far?” he asked casually. Jon snorted.

“The same as every other damn day, what do you think?” When he looked up from adding the smallest amount of sugar to his tea, he froze like a deer in headlights.

Tim was giving him The Look. The one he always gave him before he pounced and turned him into a hysterical mess. His eyes were glowing with mischievous intent, deviously smug smirk peaking out from behind his mustache. Jon took a step back, a nervous grin already tugging at his lips. He glanced over at Martin- oh God, he was going to do it in front of Martin! He looked at Tim with wide eyes, shaking his head. His smile stretched ear to ear and quite literally lit up the room. Martin stared on in shock, a faint blush dusting his cheeks at the sight of their boss looking so adorable.

“Tim-“ Jon started, hoping to negotiate his way out of this.

“You sure it’s just another boring day?” he asked, cutting him off. When he wiggled his eyebrows at him, Jon giggled, actually giggled, bumping into the corner of the fridge when he backed up further.

“Tim I swear-“

“What? I’m just asking about your day. You seem to be rather chipper, thought I’d see what that’s all about,” he teased further. Jon was starting to visibly flush, and he was at a loss for words.

“Oh you bastard,” he huffed, turning away. Tim stepped in front of him.

“Where did this hostility come from? I think someone ought to teach you some manners,” he said, winking at him. Jon felt his blood run cold.

He turned to run, but Tim hooked an arm around his waist, immediately digging his fingers in his sides. Jon doubled over, choking back laughter that still forced its way out through quick bursts of giggles, snorts, and uncharacteristic shrieks. Martin was in awe.

But he couldn’t let himself look or act as lovestruck as he felt, so he just sat there in shock.

“Tihihim! Wha- whahahat dihid I dohoho?” he asked through an onslaught of helpless snickers. Tim brought his other hand into the fray, kneading his sides like a cat making biscuits. Jon snorted, knees buckling when devious hands made contact with his ribs. Those torturous fingers prodded every space between the bones, leaving him sputtering through laughter.

“Oh nothing, nothing at all. You just looked like an easy target,” he reasoned and Jon whined. He found the uppermost ribs and Jon arched his back with a giggly squeal.

Tim only kept at it for a while longer before he released him. He gave Jon a pat on the back as he caught his breath. Tim looked over at Martin and flashed a wide, cocky grin.

“See, what’d I tell ya? Magic,” he said with a grand flourish, making Martin snort in amusement. And if he noticed the way Jon was slowly creeping up behind Tim, fingers flexed and ready to strike, well, he didn’t say anything.

Where would be the fun in that?

[backtraf]

It was a quiet night. Kelvin sat curled up next to Tim, dozing next to the fire. Tim was staring off intently, though not looking at anything in particular, past the fire. He was content.

Doing nothing but sitting there, sleep took them both quickly, Tim's back against a stump with Kelvin laying on his shoulder. It was dusk when they fell asleep, and some time later, something tickled Tim's neck, waking him in a daze.

"Huh?"

He could barely see from the light of the moon and the fire was now smoldering, but something was on top of him, or rather, someone, pressing soft kisses against his neck and weaving their fingers gently through his hair.

"Kelvin..?" He asked in a confused haze.

Kelvin moved away from his neck and up to his lips to capture them in a slow, sensual kiss. He moved his hands under Tim's shirt, causing the other's breath to hitch in surprise. The hands continued to wander upwards, making it to the sides of his chest.

A gasp escaped from Tim's lips, and he broke apart from Kelvin and let out a startled giggle. His face suddenly flushed red, and he hoped that Kelvin couldn't see in the dim light. A confused noise left Kelvin's mouth and Tim quickly shut him up, cupping the back of Kelvin's head and pulling him back down to continue the kiss.

He thanked whatever God could hear him that Kelvin didn't hear that giggle.

[tickled-2-death]

Tma tickles

Tma fans in the tickle community, please send me requests for any oneshots or hcs you want written! Jonmartin, LonelyEyes, Tim, Sasha, literally any of the other avatars no matter how niche? Send em my way, see pinned post for further info.

[forgotten-daydreamer]

as someone who gets hurt quite frequently, here's my top 4 in no particular order:

1) less than a year ago, 190°c (374°f) hot glue dripped down my fingers and melted the skin along the way. it hurt so bad i gagged multiple times, and what hurt the most was that it actually kept hurting for hours. not just my hand's, no, my whole arm's, and even my shoulder's nerves burnt like they were actively on fire for several hours. the skin there has a different texture now.

2) during quarantine, i plugged in something that had a faulty wire, so it caught on fire, but the fire wasn't what burnt me. the fire melted the plastic around the wire, and the melted plastic fell on my hand. hurt like a bitch (less than the hot glue though). still got a little scar that never healed well.

3) last year, i gave myself a bruised heel. that sounds unserious, but i actually couldn't walk on it for two weeks. my calcaneus was intact, but muscles and nerves around it were not. how did that happen? i stomped too hard (don't ask). had to go to the ER less than 24h later because i couldn't even lay in bed still, the damn foot just hurt on its own. what hurt the most, looking back at it, was my pride, because it doesn't matter how often i used them in my life, i still can't figure out crutches.

4) had a migraine that lasted three whole days. i couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't open my eyes, couldn't even swallow. it just hurt. i threw my soul up and it only aggravated my migraine, then i went blind, then i passed out, then i threw up again. i was blind for about ten hours out of those three days. all i could see besides nothingness were flashes of light, but since i was in a completely dark room, that was worrying. i did sleep, but only 2-3h per night, so it didn't help. my mother called the hospital and they told her to call my doctor first, but my doctor had just retired without a warning so we gave up. i couldn't possibly make it to the car anyway.

(my burns have healed, my heel's doing better, and i'm on migraine medication now)

[chiefdirector]

Finger Paints | Tim Bradford | The Rookie

Tim had wanted to become a police officer for many reasons. Ever since he retired from the military, he had this unwavering need to help people. He was lost without that structure in his life, but he never considered what he could gain from joining the LAPD.

Through his work he met his now-wife and they had built a life together. Now, instead of fumbling through life, he now had his four-year-old daughter sitting on his lap, absolutely covered in paint as she tried to draw something (it could either be an elephant or an aeroplane, he wasn't to sure).

"That's really good, sweetheart." He said, shuffling the two of them so he could see the picture better. From this angle, he could rule out the plane theory but it had been replaced a multi-coloured blob. "What is it?"

"Mummy!" she said, squealing almost as she wriggled in Tim's lap. He just kept on smiling as she spread paint everywhere, trying not to think about how much he liked these trousers. They could be replaced anyway, this moment couldn't.

"Ah!" he overemphasised his words, poking a finger into her side, causing her to squeal again, this time in ticklish delight. "Now I see it. What is mummy holding?"

"Candy!"

"Candy hmm?" Tim pretended to ponder as his daughter turned to face him, "Why don't we clean you up and get some candy?"

"Ice cream!" she counted, jumping up from his lap.

Tim stood after her, grabbing her hand and guiding her to the kitchen sink to try to wash up some of the paint she had covered herself in. "Ice cream it is."

Masterlist

@rookietrek @kmc1989 @augustvandyne

(i tagged people i thought may like, let me know if you wasnt to be added and/or removed)

[13phantom13angel13]

Check Ups and Giggles

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Ok! I have finally finished my last request for @thenewgirl76! Again, I apologize for them taking so long to come out. These were a lot of fun to write! Thank you!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Patrol was a pain. Tim had gotten into a fight with a criminal they were trying to take down and ended up with some injuries. Thankfully, they were all minor scrapes and bruises. Nonetheless, Alfred insisted on doing a once over on him just to double check that nothing major had happened. He knows his boys well enough to know they would downplay a serious injury.

So there Tim was, sitting on the edge of the table with his shirt off as Alfred did his physical exam. Alfred’s touch was gentle as he pressed in certain areas to check for any breaks. That was all fine and dandy, if Tim would stop squirming around. Alfred let out an amused chuckle as he gently pressed into Tim’s lower ribs causing the teen to squirm with a barely contained giggle.

“Master Timothy, you’re making it terribly difficult to finish this examination with all your squirming.” Alfred admonished in a light hearted tone. Tim huffed at him.

“I can’t help it. You keep tickling mehehehehe! Alfrehehed!” Tim flinched away with a flood of giggles as Alfred pressed into his side. Alfred couldn’t help but smile with a shake of his head.

“My apologies, Master Timothy. Believe me, I’m not trying to tickle you.” By his tone of voice, Tim could hear the unspoken ‘yet’ at the end of that sentence. He turned his head to eyeball the butler warily. Alfred just gave him a kind smile in return, a hint of mischief behind his eyes. “Do try to hold still.”

As he spoke those words, his fingers fluttered playfully against the teens ribs. Tim broke out into a giggle fit again as he squirmed.

“Alfred! Stahahahap! You’re dohohohoing it on purpohohohohose nohohohow!” Tim exclaimed as he tried to grab the man’s wrist. Alfred was quick in switching to Tim’s stomach, causing him to hunch forward as more giggles bubbled out of him.

“I assure you, I don’t know what you speak of, Master Timothy.” He continued to flutter his fingers against his stomach as Tim lightly swatted at his hand.

“Ahahahalfred plehehehehease! No tihihihihickling!”

Alfred chuckled softly but ceased his playful attack.

“Alright, Master Timothy. I’m finished. You’re free to go. No major injuries.”

Tim panted slightly as he pulled his shirt on.

“Thank you, Alfred. I appreciate you checking everything out,” Tim stood from the table and turned to face the man. “Even if you are a secret tickle monster.” A sly smile spread across the butler’s lips.

“A secret tickle monster, you say? Oh you have no idea, Master Timothy.”

Tim could read between the lines. That was a threat. Tim’s eyes widened as he stared at Alfred for two seconds before he bolted off away from him. Alfred let out a hearty laugh as he watched Tim flee. His boys were so silly.