#bruce lee side kick

[aaamike]

Ive never been much of a Law player in past games but now, he’s not only my main but also my fitness role model

[sokeanshu]

FIGHTING TECHNIQUES 🐉 BRUCE LEE Skip SIDE KICK Tutorial

[confused-wanderer]

Alfred is badass and has unuasual skills even for a batfam member.

Inspired by pandaredd’s skit where Alfred says “Bond wishes he was me”

The man is the caretaker of the bat family, he has raised every damn member, and has seen more than his fair share of wars, doomsdays and worse. He is a butler. And god knows what else in the spare time. All I imagine is that if a teenage Bruce looks up at Alfred and whispers he wants to train, Alfred might be the one who gives him contacts.

Alfred:

Bruce:

Alfred: .. wait here master Bruce, I know you won’t even listen to what I’m saying so I will let you learn the arts. Only under one condition though, I choose your trainers

Teenage Bruce: Alfred, whom would you-

Alfred *already on the phone* : Hello there Lee

Teenage Bruce *wide eyes* *mouthing* : Rock Lee??

Alfred *scoffing* : what world do you think we live in! Be more realistic Master Bruce.

Bruce: .. so who is it?

Alfred: Bruce Lee.

The scariest thing about the butler is that he will take you apart in less than a blow, and he doesn’t even need weapons. He will however use them just for fun.He can still hear if Bruce or any of the batfamily sneaks around, he’s been the only one who somehow knew Cass was in the room and offered her snacks while she was hanging upside down from the ceiling in the pitch black and overall has better instincts to locate any of them in the mansion than a GPS tracking system.

When supervillains, nosy reporters or even crooks try to break into the Manor, the fact that no one installed a security system should’ve really been a warning point that the Waynes had other.. deadlier security.

By the time Jason comes home he sees Alfred cleaning up the carpet, but doesn’t miss the wrinkled edge of the sleeve. It is only then when he looks to the other room and the criminals are all sitting in time out, each a truly remarkable shade of blue, black purple and green he’s never seen in real life. And none of them were even bleeding.

Alfred also has insanely fast reflexes. And to everyone surprise, he is an bloody good shot. Green arrow was once testing out a new arrow and it accidentally whizzed past the target and almost hit the cat when out of nowhere Alfred caught it and snapped it with one hand. And then proceeded to borrow a pistol and shoot the target while walking to the other side of the room, not even sparing a glance at the bullseye he had hit. All the while holding a tray of glass bottles that hadn’t moved a single inch.

He’s given advice to Jason on how to make explosives out of everything and nothing, taught Dick how to cut a tree in half with one kick, showed Stephanie how to always win Russian Roulette, guided Damian on how to break bones without ever leaving traces, taught Tim how to mimic someone’s voice and be scarily accurate, and so much more. Once on live television the world saw Alfred eat three cookies and refuse to pass them to Bruce Wayne before saying “They’ve been poisoned” and throwing them away. A few people swear they heard him mouth “bloody amateurs” afterwards and he insisted he was fine, stating that he was already “used to it.”

Whatever the fuck that meant.

And that is why the bat cave is a safer option for batman’s enemies than the mansion. Because if you were caught by the butler, just know that god has already forsaken you.

[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

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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.

[sungbeam]

BIRD HUNT — five

nonidol!choi line x f!reader

gotham city is a gutter running rampant with the ill, corrupt, and the insane. at times, justice and vengeance must be served by one's own hand... no matter the lengths one must go to do so.

▷ genre, au, etc. bat family au, dc comics inspired, dark, vigilantes au, slow burn, ceo/billionaire au, cat woman!reader, murder mystery au, action, suspense, angst, slow burn-ish?, love square??; choi line inspired by dick grayson (csb), jason todd (cyj), and tim drake (cbg), including bruce wayne for choi minho and damian wayne for nishimura riki, inspired by 2022's The Batman

▷ chapter warnings. swearing, mentions of death/suicide/murder, mentions of weaponry, depictions of violence, mentions of corruption, feelings of guilt

▷ word count. 4.0k // taglist. open

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a/n: i... did Not finish chapter 8 or fix chapter 7, but we ball

FILE_05 : fall where they may

gotham city.

[The funeral ; ten days since your mother was murdered.]

The guilt had been eating away at his heart, chipping away at the bones of his ribcage to expose the most important organ in his body. The ancient Egyptians had once believed that the heart was the seat of the mind; a person did not make decisions purely based on logic, but on what their heart urged them to. And that had been exactly Beomgyu’s downfall as he smiled a little too wide, laughed a little too loud, enjoyed the twinkle in your eyes just a little too much. When that emotion filled his lungs like a gas, he could see nothing but the blurred tunnel focusing solely on you. On what you and him used to be. 

“You’ve done well for yourself then,” he said, his cheeks aching from the grin on his face. His stomach and his chest felt tight from the mixture of hard laughter and ice cream and this terribly well-tailored suit. 

Your expression subdued at the thought of work, and for a moment, Beomgyu’s heart stuttered, fearing he had said the wrong thing. It was strange—he never had to be scared of saying the wrong thing, but for some reason—no, wait. Of course, he wanted this to work. You were someone very important to him. 

You cleared your throat. “I guess I have.” You paused, reconsidering your words. “Well, I’ll probably need to find new employment unless Mrs. Lee has something for me to do, but—”

“Come work for us,” he blurted. It had just… slipped out of him. But there was this thrill racing through his veins and he was not about to regret his words. Your eyes widened just slightly, and he reiterated, “I’m serious, y’know. If you need a job, you’re probably more than qualified for the positions we have open at the enterprise.” 

His knee began to bounce under the table, and the ice cream parlor was suddenly too quiet, too small, as he awaited your reply. 

You licked your lips in thought. He couldn’t read you; why couldn’t he read you? “Beomgyu, did you know that I applied and interviewed for a position at Choi Enterprise?”

Yes. He tilted his head to the side, feigning innocence. “Oh, really?” Tell me what happened, so I know whose ass to kick. 

There was that noticeable narrowing of your eyes and he wondered if you knew that he knew. You were smart, so he wouldn’t be surprised if you figured it out. “Yeah… Soobin didn’t tell you?”

What. 

He blinked, breathed. “Soobin? No, he didn’t tell me jack shit—”

“He was on the interview panel,” you said to him as you idly began stirring your spoon around your paper cup. There were only the remnants of a raspberry sorbet at the bottom. His eyes flickered over your bruised finger tips. When he had asked about it earlier, you had made up some excuse of "being mad at the world." He couldn't exactly call you out on it; he'd once thrown a physical fit and gotten a firm scolding from his dad. “Well, I think he was more just sitting in, but I don’t blame him for anything. He couldn’t have had that much say in who would be hired or not anyway.”

Oh, Beomgyu was going to murder Choi Soobin. 

Beomgyu coughed. “Yeah no. Definitely not.” Totally not because he was one of the heirs to the company or anything. Soobin couldn’t have been older than nineteen or twenty, but like Beomgyu himself, he had been trained from an early age to carry out the duties of a company executive. “And after that you interviewed with Lee Sungjae?” 

You nodded. “Somebody recommended me to his people, and I was hooked up with an interview. They must have passed along my resume or something.”

Now that sounded like something Beomgyu’s older brother would do. But why hadn’t Soobin overridden the interview panel’s verdict? Beomgyu trusted that they made a good decision, but could they not have referred you to a different open position or department in the company? There were plenty of positions to go around. Why recommend you to Lee Sungjae’s office? 

"I'm sure there was a reason for—"

"Gyu—" you cut in with a slight smile on your face, and your eyes were alight again like earlier with something like silent laughter, "—I'm not mad about it. I don't hold a grudge against you or your family or Choi Enterprise."

Beomgyu opened his mouth, then reconsidered. He wanted to tell you, god, he really wanted to. He wanted to tell you it was going to be okay. He wanted to take care of you like you and your mother had done for him those years ago. He'd felt loved and warm and… his chest ached. Dear god, his chest hurt so bad. 

He finally said, "I'm just glad you're okay." Even after I smashed your face into the floor and you knocked your head into my face and sprayed my mouth with pepper spray. 

You smiled then, the corners of which were soft and assuring. "I'm glad you're okay, too."

A grin bloomed on his face then like the spring that Gotham never saw. Flowers and shit. Gotham had all of the allergies, but somehow no flowers. That stuff came from just outside the city limits, but Beomgyu hadn’t minded spending all that gas to find those calla lilies for your mother. 

Beomgyu wondered if you'd like to come by the manor for dinner. It had to be time for supper by now; he didn't like the idea of you being alone in that apartment, even with all the cats—

The shrill sound of his ringtone sliced through the comfortable atmosphere, and Beomgyu swiftly pressed the phone to his ear with a groan after catching a glimpse of the caller ID. You lifted an eyebrow at him curiously at the sound of his generic ringtone—it used to be this one, very loud Green Day song. 

"What?" He bit out.

A chuckle met his ears, followed by Soobin's separate grunt, "You've had your fun, Beom. There's been another murder."

Beomgyu exhaled roughly and dragged a hand through his hair. He caught your eyes then glanced away. "Where?"

When Soobin said the name into the speaker, Beomgyu let out another haggard exhale. He cursed under his breath, hand coming up to his face to massage the pressure points between his eyes. “You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

The call did not last long after that, with Beomgyu promising his older brother that he would be there in fifteen minutes. He needed to take you home, after all. When he tucked his phone away, you were already giving him that smile of understanding, as if you had listened into the entire conversation through just his facial expressions and reactions. He hated that you knew that he had to go—he hated that he actually had to go, most of all. 

“Duty calls,” you said first. “Is it work?”

He lifted a shoulder in a lazy shrug, the corner of his lips curling upward in a sheepish sort of smile. “Yeah, you can say that. Hey, but I can totally give you a ride home. My brothers can wait.”

You laughed as the two of you stood together to throw away your trash and head out. 

It was a good thing that Beomgyu had the sense to stay in the shadows beneath the bridge as he brought his shiny, black BMW to a stop. The sidewalk outside the entrance to the Iceberg Lounge was beginning to fill up with clubbers dressed in their finest and skimpiest cocktail dresses and button-up shirts. Some of them laughed with their heads tilted to the poisoned Gotham night sky while others let their big mouths run wild to the pretty face hanging off their arm. Maybe you shouldn’t have had Beomgyu drop you off here, but you needed to see your father about something, and you hadn’t the energy to go from one end of the city to the other twice. 

Beomgyu’s jaw was set as he surveyed the outside of the club. “Yn, I know I shouldn’t ask…”

“I just have business to wrap up,” you told him while gathering your things at your feet. “My mom had a… connection here.”

“I don’t think you should go alone.”

“And who’s gonna accompany me?” When you glanced over at Beomgyu, he was already staring back at you with that steely gaze. It was defiant, telling you what you already knew—he would definitely drop whatever work thing had come up to accompany you through the Iceberg Lounge. “You have business to attend to, and I’ll be fine. I’ve been in a couple times anyway and the guys at the front know me.”

His eyebrow shot up. “They know you? That really doesn’t make me feel better.” 

It was so odd, you realized as you took in the full view of Beomgyu’s crisp black suit and his gold Rolex and his characteristically chiseled “Choi” features side by side with the outside of the Iceberg Lounge. The silver-blue neon sign cast an almost ethereal glow across his face, like an angel. But angels didn’t exist in Gotham, at least, not the good ones. You wondered if what your father had told you about the Chois were true. 

The corner of your lips quirked upward. “I’ll be fine, Beomgyu. You have my number now, so you can even text me later and I’ll confirm that I’m completely fine.” You pushed your car door open and welcomed the icy Gotham night across your skin. 

Beomgyu leaned across the car’s center console, the shadows now dancing over the pretty shapes of his face. “You better answer then.”

“Promise.” You grabbed the top rim of the door, primed to close it. “Now you should probably get out of here before somebody recognizes you.”

A flash of admission in his eyes. “Hey, listen. You wanna hang out—you just let me know. Like any time, okay? I—” he pursed his lips then nodded, “—yeah, I missed you a lot, Yn. I missed this.” 

Whatever this is, you wanted to say. Because… well, what was this? You didn’t know why your heart stuttered at the idea of texting him and hanging out with him again. Maybe it was the little teenage girl inside of you banging on the bars of her cage, begging to be let out at the taste of what used to be. That was what this had been—just a taste. 

You could only bob your head. “Get home safe.”

“You, too.” 

You slammed the door to the car and, without so much as a glance backward, you made your way across the street and into the neon light of the Iceberg Lounge. But seconds before you slipped into the raging nightclub, you peered over your shoulder to watch the BMW pull out from the shadows beneath the bridge and slowly begin to drive away. 

Less than five minutes later, you were seated in the living room of your father’s apartment, wondering how thick the floors and windows were if you could not even feel the bass from the floors below. It was a marvel; how much force would it take to break? If you ever had to break in, some way other than the door, then how could you do so?

Tonight, your father nursed a little, white and blue teacup with some kind of dark brew swirling in its innards. There was some kind of piano ballad playing in the background and a bookmarked novel sat in your father’s lap. 

“Where did you even get the idea that the Chois were backing the vigilantes anyway?” You asked him as one of his assistants emerged from a secret doorway in the bookshelves to hand you an unopened bottle of water. It was one of those brand named bottles claiming to be bottled straight from the blood of Fiji—or something of that sort. Water was water, but why weren’t you surprised that he owned this kind of luxury? “I don’t really see how or why. Thanks,” the latter statement being directed to the assistant, who promptly disappeared once his purpose had been served. 

Your father took a sip of his beverage. “Yn, dear, everyone in this city has an allegiance to someone to remain alive, whether they know it or not.” He considered the dark surface of the tea as if he could read the tea leaves lying at the bottom of the cup like corpses. “They do not answer to me, so they must answer to someone else.”

“Couldn’t you just—I dunno—look into their finances?” As soon as you said it, you backtracked, “No. Wait, don’t do that.”

He chuckled and the sound always sounded so oddly hollow. “Ah, still attached, are we? I seem to have noticed that you did not take your usual form of transportation tonight.”

“So you were spying on me?”

“I was merely looking out the window,” he replied while feigning an innocent look on his face. “But back to what we were discussing: you probably already know that men with money don’t like getting their hands soiled.”

You cracked the water bottle open. “So they flick their money in certain directions to make people get their hands dirty for them. That’s just common sense.” After you had taken a generous gulp of your water, you continued, “But you haven’t even the faintest piece of solid evidence that the Choi family is allied—or at least—employing these vigilantes, do you?”

Something flashed across your father’s face, and you realized that the warm and fuzzy feeling in your chest was satisfaction. Oh god, it purred and circled in your chest until it settled there upon your sternum. It felt good to see your father stumped for once. (And frankly, the fact that you knew something he didn't also gave you that fuzzy, feline feeling. No, you had not cared to divulge that Choi Yeonjun was most likely the Red Hood. Something told you it was a secret you would do well to keep.)

At the dawn of your sly satisfaction, your father steered the conversation elsewhere. “Speaking of evidence, I have another lead.”

Immediately, that warm, fuzzy feeling was smothered and your posture straightened. “What is it?”

“But you have to do something for me.” Of course, because what was a lead without you doing another favor for him? You didn’t even prompt him. “The Commissioner of police—you know him? This Kim Namjoon character.”

You nodded. You knew of him, and you had even spoken with him, but he had seemed like a nice man. Then again, there weren’t a lot of nice people here. “He’s your lead?”

He scoffed into his tea cup. “No. That man is irritatingly difficult to persuade—”

“You mean ‘to corrupt.'”

He flicked a hand in dismissal. “Yes, yes, to corrupt. Either way, information will not come from him, so I need you to take it yourself.”

Your eyes shuttered as the statement processed in your head. “I will not kill for you, I hope you know that. I am here for my mother.”

His harsh gaze cut across to you and you suddenly felt so small beneath his stare again. Where had that satisfaction from before gone? You missed the comfortable weight in your chest, but now, all you felt was the thick viscosity of blood choking you from the inside out. “This is for your mother, Yn. If you want something, you have to take it. That is something your mother and I disagreed on, and look where that got her.”

The room descended into silence. 

Your heart thundered in your chest, your ears. It threatened to leap out and rip your so-called father to shreds. “Go fuck yourself. And you say you loved her?” You hissed. You ripped yourself out of the armchair, turning on the balls of your feet to get the Hell out of this place. 

“I did not want you to kill anyone, Yn.” 

His voice didn’t stop you as you continued down the corridor. Maybe this would be good. You could totally do this on your own, right? Wrong. And this awareness had you still listening to his words. 

“All you must do is sneak into the commissioner’s office and steal the report from your mother’s case.”

Your feet stopped moving. “And why can’t you just get one of your goons to do it?”

The sigh that fell from his lips sounded tired, but you sensed the exasperation lacing it. “My man on the inside is close to being found out. Plus, I know that you are capable of getting in and out without being caught. You’re more competent than all of my men.”

You abhorred how your pride swelled at the comment. It was hardly a compliment, but here you were, turning back around. Who were you trying to fool? You couldn’t do this on your own. “Fine. What am I getting again?”

Your father leaned forward to set his now empty teacup on the table. “The file must have a record of the casing from the bullet she was murdered with—the one that was found at the scene. From there, we can track down the make and model, who owned the weapon, and such. A lead, as I said.”

You had only been stationed outside the window of the commissioner’s office for seventeen minutes, but the guilt and pity was raging for this poor man. Commissioner Kim Namjoon had seemed like a nice enough man—a professional enough man—when you had spoken with him that day at the Lees’ home in the suburbs. As your father had said, he was one of the few irritatingly stubborn people in this town who refused to be corrupted by anyone. This one was a good egg in a bad nest. You suspected that he actually sought justice and had a good moral compass, and you also guessed that was the reason why there was a massive stack of paperwork on his desk. The man had been hunched over his desk for the entire time you had been stationed outside waiting for him to leave his office. 

“Take a damn break, man,” you muttered lowly to yourself, but also secretly hoping he would hear you and move his ass. If not for you, then for the sake of his own hair because you were certain he was this close to uprooting all of his hair follicles. 

It seemed the dark angel looming over your shoulder would grant your wish, and Commissioner Kim’s coffee cup had run dry. He rubbed his palms down his face, then stood to stretch his back and grab the emptied mug to head out of his office to get a fresh cup from the pot. 

You saw your opportunity and took it. Swiftly, you maneuvered your lock picks into the window lock, then lifted the pane up and open. You didn’t have a lot of time, but your father had assured you that his alleged “man on the inside” would find a way to distract the commissioner should he finally leave his damned office. You couldn’t really rely on that, so you scrambled over to the wall of file cabinets as quietly as possible and began to shuffle through them. 

Because the responding officers on the night of your mother’s murder had classified the crime as a simple suicide, you could probably guess that the officers in question probably got it thrown in a closed case file. You really wished you had been given more head’s up about this, or even a file number, because while the commissioner’s filing system was awfully organized, each file was categorized and labeled with a set of numbers and letters that did not help your timing. 

Why hadn’t your father’s “man on the inside” let you know which cabinet it was in, at least? (Right, they had given you some dumb explanation like “he works in robbery, not homicide." Well, your mother’s death wasn’t even a homicide, so it shouldn’t matter much—? God, you fucking hated this.)

Your heart hammered against your ribcage as you picked up the sound of nearing voices and footsteps. 

Clock’s ticking, Yn. Come on, let’s find this thing and get the Hell out of here. 

Sweat began to dampen the fabric of your mask, and you could feel your fingers begin to shake. The voices had faded along with the footsteps, but you still could not find the file—

The door to the office crashed open, the handle slamming against the wall as the words “FREEZE!” erupted. 

Guns were pulled—the barrels of the Commissioner’s and an officer’s in your face, and the barrel of yours… you couldn’t—you simply could not decide who to shoot. And maybe it was that hesitation that spelled out your fate. 

Or it was the commissioner’s order for the officer to unmask you. 

Fear filled your veins like a drug, and that drug pumped action into your limbs, forcing you to do something. They needed you alive, damn it; at least, that was what you told yourself in some weak attempt to assure yourself as you slowly lowered yourself and your gun toward the ground. 

Your mind raced—the officer—the officer looked so familiar. Why did he look familiar to you?

Do it. Do it NOW. 

You flung yourself at the officer’s twig-like legs, arms wrapping around his knees to send him folding and doubling over, body crashing through the doorway. The commissioner’s shouts were loud, but for some reason, he wasn’t shooting you like you thought he would—or did you know he wouldn’t shoot if you didn’t first? The gun in your hand became a hammer as you smashed it across the officer’s face, your knee landing oh-so-sweetly in between his legs.

You got in his face; you knew why he looked so familiar now. “You cunt,” you sneered in his face. This was your father’s “man on the inside,” the assistant from earlier. 

Blood spilled from the gash you had dealt to his face. He bared his teeth. “Doing my job, bitch.” And with a bout of strength, he flipped the two of you over and made a grab for your mask. 

Panicpanicpanic—

You were ripped out from under the two-timing son of a bitch, the both of you heaving for breath as you were forced apart. 

The commissioner’s voice came from just behind you, and the realization that he was the one restraining you had you cursing inwardly. This couldn’t get any worse, could it? “Young, go get cleaned up, and for God’s sake, calm yourself, man.” He then addressed everyone else to scram, before hauling your arms behind you. You heard the telltale click of the handcuffs, your coffin lid closing into place. 

Namjoon nudged you in the direction of a hallway just to your right. “Come on,” he said, his tone tired. “I won’t unmask you out here unless you don’t cooperate.”

But he was still going to unmask you, right? Nonetheless, you cooperated, and let him walk you down the hallway into one of the interrogation rooms. When you had settled in the cold, steel chair, with your hands cuffed to the bar on the table, the commissioner settled in the seat across from you. 

“Would you like to call anyone before we begin?”

You shook your head. You didn’t even know your father’s new phone number, and he had never deigned to give you an outside way to contact him. There was this bitter twist of shame in your gut and the question of why you felt so ashamed to be caught loitered in your head. Was it because your father said you were supposed to be competent enough? 

He raised an eyebrow at you, incredulous. “You sure, kid?”

Your fingers curled into a fist, then unfurled. “I don’t have anyone to call,” you forced out.

You saw the pity in his eyes—hated it. He was standing up now, walking around the table to stand next to you. It was like slow motion. The mirror across from you gave you a front row seat to your own unveiling, as Commissioner Kim grabbed one ear of the cat mask and ripped the entire thing off your face.

a/n: listen... it's not as pathetic as it looks... okay maybe it is

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[ticklishprincey]

Brozone Tickle Headcannons

There is not enough content around these goobers and I NEED IT so I made it John Dory -LER 100% -Easily flustered lees beware -Main target is Branch but will target the others sporadically -Tickle games are his favorite -Responds to pleads like "Not there!" with "Yes there!" -Likes to pin his lee but only does it if they're comfortable -Has an established safe word with Branch -Aftercare varies depending on the lee, but Branch gets the best aftercare (He's got a big soft spot for his bitty b) -Not super ticklish bUT his neck is a major giggle spot -Raspberries against his neck send him into a giggle fit -Bruce and Clay tickle him occasionally when he's being an ass Bruce -Ler-leaning switch -Main targets are Floyd and Branch but goes after John Dory when he's being an asshole -Big fan of cheer-up tickles -Loves giving raspberries -Teases NONSTOP -Usually his teasing involves baby talk and compliments -Pins his lee in tickle hugs -Likes pretending to eat his lee -Aftercare usually is cuddling and playing with his lee's hair -Worst spots are his back ribs -CANNOT take what he dishes out -Melts at the slightest bit of teasing -Main ler is John Dory Clay -Switchy switch -Main lees are Floyd and Branch -Rough housing with his brothers usually turns to a tickle fight -Either super gentle or vicious, there's no in-between -Good at teasing, likes pretending to eat his lee -Obnoxious nomming noises -Aftercare is usually him putting on a movie and rubbing his lee's back -Surprisingly ticklish -Instigates tickle fights just to get his shit wrecked -THE WORST LEE MOODS -Would rather die than ask for it so he just annoys the shit out of his brothers until they snap and tickle him -Worst spot is his ribs, he curls into a lil giggle ball -Little dimples -Won't ask his ler to stop until he's literally dying Floyd -Lee-leaning switch -He doesn't get ler moods often, but targets Branch if he's sad -Super gentle and teasing -Can't say the dreaded t-word to save his life -Tickle hugs and tracing his lee's ribs/belly -Aftercare is cuddles and forehead kisses -Literally ticklish everywhere -Curls into a little ball at the slightest poke -Worst spot is his neck but anywhere is pretty fair game -Absolutely melts when his wrists are tickled -Soft tickles = very happy Floyd -Main lers are literally all of his brothers but Branch Clay target him the most Branch -Likes to believe he's a ler but he's not -Lee leaning switch 100% -Can't say the t-word to save his life -His tickling is on the rougher side but tones it down for certain people (Poppy & Floyd usually) -Raspberries are his favorite (to give and receive) -Not the best at teasing but he's getting better -Tickle bites are his specialty -Laughs along with his lee -Aftercare is water, a snack and a blanket, along with cuddling in you're close and him asking if you're okay/did he go too far -Really ticklish everywhere -Has built zero tolerance to tickling whatsoever -Worst spot is his hips -Squeeze his hips and he's begging for mercy -Incoherent babbling and pleading (he doesn't mean it) -Cannot sit still even though he enjoys it -Main lers are Poppy and Floyd but all his brothers love the bonding time -Usually tells his ler they need to pin him to avoid injury -Has kicked a few people in the face by accident (he felt awful afterwards) -Melts with soft tickles

[nebuvoid]

Just went to the most bizarre aqua aerobics ive ever had the displeasure to be a part of.

8 euro for one hour??? technically its for a whole day; however there IS NO OTHER OPTION. you cant buy a 2 hour ticket anymore. just a full day ticket. for 8 euro. hello??? me and many others just come to partake in whatever program is there at the time. this is just plain bullshittery. scheiß NEW

there was no instructor. we were all standing there in an overcrowded pool because they didnt raise the floor for the other half of the pool, so it was hard to do kick or wide arm exercises. but the real kicker was that we were all looking at what was basically a youtube video on a big screen. and apparently its the same one every time.

the exercises werent well balanced either. aqua aerobics are targeted at seniors and yet there was a lot of bruce lee double leg side kicks and barely any stretching exercises.

all in all a very strange experience. nothing like the last time i did aqua aerobics. 8 euro to watch a bad youtube video in an overcrowded pool for an hour. wild

[taughtdefense]

there you go. poetry.

the dojo backyard hums with the familiar sounds of sparring—footsteps thudding against the grass & sparring deck, the occasional thwack of bodies colliding. the sun casts long shadows as students move about, some practicing kicks & punches or sai & bo staff training, while others engage in friendly sparring matches. the air is filled with the rhythmic sounds of heavy breathing & the occasional shout of encouragement, creating a lively atmosphere as everyone gears up for today’s training, which you hope will be on the calmer side.

standing on one of the decks, demetri is animatedly recounting a scene from enter the dragon, the excitement evident in his voice. it’s one of those movies johnny had insisted they watch in preparation for the sekai taikai, & now it seems to have ignited a fire in demetri. you can almost see the gears turning in his head as he gestures wildly with one hand, the other gripping an ipad showing one of the fight scenes in the movie. he’s trying to correlate a fight sequence to a new practice routine idea, emphasizing the importance of timing, situational awareness & precision.

hawk is a few feet away, practicing his combos with intensity, occasionally stealing glances at demetri’s antics. the determination in his movements contrasts with demetri's excitement, but you can see the spark of interest in hawk’s eyes as he catches snippets of the conversation. every so often, he throws in a sarcastic remark, teasing demetri about getting too caught up in the film rather than focusing on real training.

paze & elena, meanwhile, are paired off, working on their footwork drills. their laughter fills the air as they playfully compete to see who can land the most accurate kicks. it’s a light-hearted moment that balances the more serious training taking place around them; both of them had lost the in the initial training set by barnes, so there’s no stress to be found with most of your friends over competing to be the best—not like the twelve of you. you can’t help but smile at the patches of your friends scattered around the dojo, a reminder of how far everyone has come since the dojo’s early days when it was only you, sam & robby, & then demetri when he’d joined.

"you see, in this scene, the hero uses this really unconventional move to dodge an attack," demetri explains, enthusiasm lighting up his face. "it’s all about timing, situational awareness, & precision—"

you raise an eyebrow, skepticism creeping in. as you mentally dissect the move demetri’s describing, going back to what you had seen last night, you can’t help but picture the fight choreography in your mind. the way bruce lee executed that spin was graceful, almost poetic in its fluidity. but the reality is far from it—real opponents aren’t choreographed, & they don’t just stand there waiting for you to perform a dramatic spin. there are too many variables at play. you can already see how this would go down in practice: demetri would get caught up in his own head, hesitating at the critical moment. the chances of someone anticipating that move & countering it are high, & then climb even higher once you factor in who they would be going up against in the sekai taikai.

"you do realize this is real life, right? we’re not in a movie?" you reply, cutting through demetri’s enthusiasm. the grin on your face betrays your amusement at the sheer absurdity of it all.

"there you go. poetry." @taughtpain quips, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

you roll your eyes but can’t suppress a smile. "cinematic brilliance meets real-world karate dojo." you automatically reply in an equally sarcastic tone, absentmindedly twisting your engagement ring, watching it catch in the light of the sun. the sight of robby alone is enough to lighten your mood, even amid demetri’s relentless enthusiasm. you watch as your friend continues, undeterred, his hands flying in the air as he tries to illustrate his point to an increasingly amused emma, charlie, theo, light, chris, devon, miguel & chase.

"but if we incorporate the spin technique—" he taps on the ipad in his hand, & the scene continues before he pauses it again after a few seconds. "i think—"

"dems, dude, we’re not auditioning for a blockbuster," you interject, laughter bubbling up as you think about how many times you’ve seen that scene play out in the movie since last night alone, demetri going through the scene practically frame by frame with a fine-tooth comb. merrick threw popcorn at his face until he stopped, & then went to go get more popcorn. in reality, if demetri tried that during sparring, he’d just end up on his back, & you might have to step in to save him from the embarrassment. the thought alone makes you chuckle, a warmth spreading through you as you imagine it.

demetri, oblivious to your laughter, launches into another explanation, his voice rising in pitch. you let your gaze drift around the dojo, noticing the way the sunlight filters through the open doors, casting warm patches on the floor. it’s peaceful here, a sanctuary away from everything else.

but just as demetri’s voice starts to fade into the background, you feel a pull toward robby. he’s leaning back against the wall. you slide closer, the warmth radiating from him igniting something comforting in your chest. without thinking, you wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a gentle hug that feels grounding amidst the inane chaos of demetri’s enthusiastic ramblings. you dip down, leaning your head against his shoulder, the tension from the upcoming challenge melting away as you relax against him.

"i know he’s just trying to help, my love," you whisper into his ear, a grin tugging at your lips, "but in a real fight, honestly… that move doesn’t seem like it’d work at all! too many variables to consider, firstly. coordination, for one. for another, your opponent’s not gonna be a freaking statue." you whisper… & then your eyes light up in mischief. while everyone’s distracted with their own tasks, maybe you & robby can sneak away for some alone time. it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve taken advantage of this, & it certainly won’t be the last, either.

[jpjkd]

With our JPJKD UK Workshop taking place next weekend I am reposting "Catching Beats of Time". You can catch us at Zen Combat Fitness in Bury St. Edmunds, UK, from April 6-7, 2024. This will be a 2-day JKD Workshop hosted by Sifu Norm Willis. Sign up today at: https://www.jpjkd.com/jpjkd-event-registration/ Come and discover Philosophy in Motion! “Make at least one definite move daily toward your goal.” -Bruce Lee

Catching Beats of Time

One of Sifu Jerry Poteet’s common command was, “Catch beats of time!” Although he was referring to the combative beats of time in JKD training, I did not realize then how precious those temporal beats would become. Let’s face it, time, at least on this physical plane, is not our friend. There are only so many moments in a lifetime. In fact, Jerry’s favorite song was “Time In a Bottle”, by Jim Croce. Some of us are privileged to enjoy more beats of time than others, but the lesson is the same for life or Jeet Kune Do.;

to lose even one beat of time is to squander an opportunity that will not come again.

Of course, when training Jeet Kune Do, Jerry would have us pare down our movements to the bare essentials. For example, a kick that began with three motions, back leg to front leg, knee pointed, foot extended, became ONE motion, thus catching two beats of time. Like the Zen swordsman Takuan, there was “not a hairbreath between movements”. This type of training requires extreme awareness; awareness of body motion, awareness of superfluous movement, awareness of TIME. But if you could grasp the principles and express them, your strikes, kicks, punches, etc. became incredibly explosive. (One need only to watch any of Bruce Lee’s movies to see this PHILOSOPHY IN MOTION®.) Like his famous teacher, Bruce Lee , Jerry Poteet lived fully in the present moment. Many of his lessons were a guide or blueprint for finding the Living Tao. Ironically, the more still and centered he became, the more explosive and incredible his martial arts skills became. Focusing purely on the present moment gifted him with an awareness of other’s intentions. He knew, or seemed to know, what you were going to do before you did! When Jerry pressed Sijo Lee about his uncanny ability to do the same years previously, Bruce merely told him “not to discard the five senses looking for a sixth”. After that conversation, Jerry not only trained his body for the rigors of Jeet Kune Do, he endeavored to train his mind and senses to their fullest. He always had a book(s) by his side, as well as a notepad to record his ideas on everything from JKD, new equipment designs, poetry, cooking, etc. The smallest task became an opportunity to live in the moment and express himself creatively.

I have written previously about his teacher’s confession to Jerry that he knew his life would not be long. Like his Sifu, Jerry grabbed life by the lapels, and lived to the fullest. Jerry also sensed that his life would not be long, so he determined to be present for every single beat of time. After a liver transplant in 1996, he realized that every day alive was “a day of grace” to be savored. And savor it he did. Like the Japanese swordsman who cherish the fleeting beauty of the short-lived cherry blossom flower, Jerry would observe each frame of time as though it was an artistic masterpiece.

Today, years after his death, I cherish those beats of time that I shared with Jerry. It is clear that his legacy is not simply about kicking or punching, etc., but about grasping the present moment, (much more than “mindfulness”), and the manipulation of energy. It is this legacy that we will share in future lessons, seminars, etc.

Because if we can catch beats of time…the beat will always go on! See you soon!

[shop-korea]

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TOMORROW - ALREADY - 17 MARCH

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HAPPY - EASTER

REMEMBERING - 31 MARCH

SELENA

BRANDON LEE

BOTH - SHOT - 2 - DEATH

SAME - DEATH ANNIVERSARY

JESUS - ROSE FR - THE DEAD

AFTER - 3 DAYS

GOD - RAISED - HIS ONLY SON

FR - THE - DEAD - ISRAEL

NAILED - HIS - HANDS - WOOD

CROSS - HE - WAS - NAKED

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DAY - BROKE - THEIR - KNEE

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ISRAEL - WAS - HORRIBLE

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[johnconstantinejld]

The Hammer

The company had collectively been kicked out of the bar and walked across the grassy plain. They walked without direction, aimlessly heading towards the trees in front of them.

‘Me?’ Offered the tall stranger, ‘I work the anvil. I’m a blacksmith. And my friend is…’

‘Project worker.’ Offered the smaller man, ‘I do lots of different tasks. What do you do?’

‘I’m an archaeologist, and he’s a research scientist.’ Donald Blake replied, ‘But we do lots of different things.’

‘You seem sad.’ Said the little fellow. His eyes darted. A million expressions seemed to cross his face at once. ‘You miss someone. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here.’

‘Don’t you have someone else to talk to?’

The tall man glanced at the paper rustling at his feet. Tony Stark, once head of a company with bigger finances than the GDP of Lichtenstein, now blown it all and untrustworthy. He was bailed out by Bruce Wayne on condition that no new weapons technology be created. The man was broken. 

The small man coughed. ‘It appears the Norns decided his time was up.’

The archaeologist turned, offended. 

‘I am only son of the All-Father.’ Declared Donald Blake, ‘Who are thou?’

The tall man grimaced and exchanged glances with the little man. This time, the man was angry. His eyes went as red as his hair.

‘And Vali? Vitharr? Where are they? I have many brothers. The late Balder. You have forgotten some.’

‘I am worthy to hold Mjolnir!’ Declared Donald Blake.

‘Do you ride the goat-chariot?’ Laughed the little fellow, ‘Wear the Jarngreipir gauntlets? Wear the belt which increases strength? What of your friend here?’

‘He is Thor.’ Bruce Banner declared, ‘And you got me angry!’

The green man towered over Loki, who politely disappeared. The Hulk felt a small sting on his face. He swatted at it. Something dug into him. He yelled, only for the pain to increase.

‘Come out, Loki Laufeyson!’ Hulk declared.

‘My mother is Laufey.’ Thought Loki, ‘Call me Farbautison, and Odin is my adopted father.’

Donald Blake drew forth his hammer. ‘I am the mighty Thor! I believe you are consorting with the wily Loki. You are my enemy. I can fly at you from all directions, stranger.’

‘So you do not have the goat-chariot.’ The stranger laughed.

His hammer was also one-handed, but equally strong and carved in dark runes which burnt in the stone.

‘I am many things.’ Thor said, ‘Mighty must be a new name. Sif Golden-Hair will like it. But Loki’s enemies are Heimdall on one side and Logi of the Jotunn. Did you know that? And Hel does not deserve the poor attack you did to her.’

Blake swung his hammer and hit Thor over the head. The man ignored it and swung Mjolnir. In his first strike, it broke through the imposter hammer and into his arms. Then, he crushed his head, then his ribs and spine. 

A snake emerged from the Hulk, who fell behind to the ground. Loki dusted himself down.

‘Puny imposters. Hey look-a blood eagle!'

‘You were right, Loki. They were tall fellows. But it wasn’t a good fight. Come on, let’s go home.’

Um, is it Nationalist/full of unfortunate implications to have the actual Thor and Loki from mythology smashing up Marvel's characters? I think because they were introduced in the 60s and come from a more sci-fi based comic world (all credit to Stan Lee and co.) that it's alright. I am far from right wing, I just don't want people like Varg Vikernes complimenting me.

[streamxbattle]

🔥WWE 2K23 - Sumo Girl vs. The Great Khali : WWE 2K Sept 28, 2023

Are you ready for an epic wrestling showdown? Watch Sumo Girl take on The Great Khali in WWE 2K23. It's a match you won't forget. The anticipation is building as Sumo Girl, known for her incredible strength and technique, steps into the ring to face off against the formidable opponent, The Great Khali. The crowd roars with excitement, their cheers echoing throughout the arena. (🔥WWE 2K23 - Sumo Girl vs. The Great Khali : WWE 2K Sept 28, 2023) 

The tension in the air is palpable as both wrestlers stare each other down, ready to give it their all. 

Sumo Girl, with her impressive size and agility, matches The Great Khali's sheer power with swift moves and impressive holds. With each slam and suplex, the intensity of the match grows, captivating the audience's attention. The energy is electric as the two wrestlers push their limits, unleashing their signature moves in a display of skill and athleticism. 

0:00 - Introduction and Background of the Superstar

0:36 - The Superstar's Aggressive Start and Attempt at a Pin

1:02 - Double Ax Handle and Unrelenting Offense

1:31 - Forearm Smash and Continued Aggression

2:00 - Effects of the Last Hit and Potential Counter

2:23 - Display of Adrenaline and a Powerful Splash

2:52 - Knee Lift Targeting the Opponent

3:11 - Climbing the Corner for a High-Risk Move

3:30 - Apron Senton for Impactful Maneuver

3:48 - Floor Dive, Sign of Daredevil Spirit

4:06 - Reengagement with a Veral Strike

4:24 - Back Elbow and Switched Momentum

4:49 - Side Headlock Takeover for Pressure

5:08 - Steadfast Approach and Crowd Support

5:31 - Display of Strength with a Backbreaker

5:50 - Cover Attempt for Victory

6:06 - Final Surge of Offense and Ultimate Kick

6:20 - Wrap-up, Exhausting Victory, and Celebration

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👇 Share your thoughts in the comments below - who impressed you the most in this epic battle?

🔥WWE 2K23 - STARLA vs. Sumo Girl: WWE2K Sept 15, 2023

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kxJF-s_8Oy4

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WMwu1_XDbBk

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ztn-BghTMGc

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[larr9-blog]

Cross kick Studio Films Bruce Lee side kick Back alley way of the Dragon

[alicepooryorick]

(for the ask game) 7, 5,1

Yessss I love giving opinionsssss and nobody ever asks me when I RB ask games THANK YOU!!

Alright, so:

7 (who is my favorite author (canon/fanon)

Listen, I'm a prick. I'm sorry. But I have to say Stan Lee. This man was a story telling genius who helped invent not just some of the best characters ever made, not just stories that (in my opinion) are the closest we've gotten to Shakespeare (if you know how to read Shakespeare and know how silly the man was) , but also invented a lot of the techniques used even to this day. His stories of hope and heroism ring true to this day. The X-Men stand as one of the greatest minority stories made because of how real they feel. I'm not a Marvel fan anymore but Stan Lee was was far more than Marvel, even if marvel was little more than Stan Lee.

5 who is the best comic book sibling relationship?

Ooh... See... According to the incorrect side of the fandom, it's Cassteph. But they aren't siblings they're dating. But if you believe they're sisters then it's them.

For real though, I have like, a couple.

The non-canon siblings: Bruce-Barbara. I see these two as borderline seeing eachother as siblings in my head canon. Sane way people sometimes say Dick and Bruce are closer to that relationship. I think Bruce and Babs working together the way they do, supporting eachother and the rest of the Batfamily... I like them.

The canon siblings: I think from the real ones, (slight stretch again. Oops) Jason and Barbara. The New 52 leant into this, from what I've read and I love Jason sitting there, hating the world, having a billion problems, but thinkkng "Barbara. I can't disappoint her." And Barbara being able to be the big sister to this gang lord who won't listen to anyone but her... Beautiful I love it I write Jason in fanfiction as having a fake id of "Jason Gordon" to allow him to live normal life. Also, to continue rambling, the fact that Jason sits there, this pile of muscle with brains to rival Bruce and he still refuses to look down on Barbara because he knows she's just awesome. I love them.

Look at their relationship!!!!!

1 favorite character and why?

Oh fuck ... So many to choose from. I have all my obscure blorbos, Annie, Ace, Carrie, etc. But then there's Cassandra and Jason! And these are just the Batman picks! From other comics I adore Speedball, nightthrasher, midnights fire, and Silhouette from Marvel's "The New Warriors" back in the 80's

I think overall though it's either Cassandra or Jason. These characters are both so interesting and have so much yet untapped potential. Cassandra being this gifted child who's far to good at what she does who simply doesnt understand failure. Her need to save people. Her relationship with the family, her relationship with her definitely girlfriend Stephanie Brown just... Ahhhh

But then, Jason, who is an amazing look at what a lethal batman might look like. He's this awesome combatant who is a super genius and has an awesome team of friends called the outlaws. But he's not just the Punisher for DC, he's even had multiple side kicks! Duela Dent, who he saved from the Joker despite her being a villain, and Scarlett. There's so much depth to him I'm to tired to talk on rn but I love him too.

But in my heart of hearts it's Ace of Spades/Annie Hagen (both DCAU) but that's just kinda a "blorbo from my shows" deal where I think they deserved more screen time (and maybe a last name change to "Wayne" each) I love these tragic girlies and I forever will. I'm wanting to write AU's where they're adopted so badly (I have the Annie one started actually, oops)

Anyway, rambles over, thanks so much for the asks!

[the-firebird69]

Watch "Off road racing is too extreme - CHINA ODA" on YouTube

These are coveted vehicles right now and it's one of mine. And you know almost didn't put it there because he didn't believe we're doing it yet and I keep telling him we are. My son is also building them with us and yeah jet li does it too and these people are at us these gifted people and the clones and they won't shut up and they won't stop doing it they have an angle inside and they both suck but the clones suck very badly and are not them because they're all clones they're all one guy and they're all link for the most part which is different and it was explained and they don't get it the sun gets it is very aggressive and it works and the more lock or not they're more like ilio. Now we sell a lot of these today hundreds of thousands of octillions for real and people want them very badly and they pay people tons of money and they won't stop doing that and it's making it a black market item and tons of people are buying them and getting them elsewhere and they're big waves you can't seem to buy them so it's very strange the effect is odd the people see who can buy them and they start bothering them and it's the clothes and they're getting the crap kicked out of them it's like this John Cena chopper I can't believe what he said to me he said you make the chopper the same and you add some Chinese effect, it looks like China has accepted it and it sold like madness instead of like crazy I mean it's 10 times the sales you just put a stupid fairing on it to help cool the motor and if it works or not I don't know usually it does that's what we say in China. And which and Linda's looking back at him way Chan Lynn was looking back at him and he's saying you got to be kidding me you're Bruce Lee the whole time and he's laughing now yeah guess who's Brandon. He says that's me too so it's kind of funny to him because he changed his look completely and he's also that huge guy in kumare which is coming up, it starts doing the movies because jet li does and jet Li's movie hit home for a lot of people and not just in China and our son felt it very much he still does he sees them come in and ride and inform and rat and then leave and people think of them in the wrong way but they're dwindling to nothing and it is the clones and they are not the same people race and they don't have the same customs and they don't do the same thing and we're aware of something they're calling them Japanese and Russian and then they say they are both and our son says they have to have some kind of weakness so they're working on it and it is pissing them off and they're going away and I think it's Max plan and he might know and he probably does. But why does this car kick butt. And it's not the model he's thinking of a brand although I believe it's Chinese. And it is a brand he doesn't know how to say it's like yeah and it's spelled similar yeah like Chai tea, and yes commander Kai is my character and he's oblitering idiot because that's what he does and he's supposed to be one of these guys and he's Gohan the bigger one and Goku is the smaller one but stronger than him but Gohan is the ruler and the leader and you can see it in a lot of movies and he does wrestle with his first born as the Hulk and not in his current body although you people demand it it's ridiculous and too dangerous and he might actually be able to do it but he won't win and he says I might but I might get injured and my son does not want to fight me if I would and I wouldn't put him up to it and tell the people do respect that in a sense as I'd be wrestling my father where I come from and the side effects are very bad everybody was going to wrestling and it's bad you can't do that to him and I definitely won't and they want to wrestle John removal at all the time no matter what he looks like and happens to him all the time so that's why it's pushing them around one reason the other is that people want the money he wants them to get uppity so you can take their stuff and they found out about it and they're beating the crap out of him

Uriel and Goddess Wife