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august-anon · 1 month ago

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Brotherly Duties

Hey hey, @rosiesramblings! I cannot tell you how excited I was to be your @squealing-santa this year!! This fic was so fun to write and I love it a lot, so I hope you love it too!

When I saw your 3 prompts, along with your request for ler!Dick and lee!any-of-his-little-brothers, my brain went "Why Not All Three, Though?" So here's your batbrothers fic, featuring all 3 baby brothers and all 3 prompts! I may have gotten a little carried away lol

And also, a huge thank you to @cantsaythetword for hosting this year's @squealing-santa! You are hugely appreciated, Crow! I know hosting this event is no easy feat, especially with tumblr seemingly trying to block all avenues of communication. We all really appreciate you!!

(also obligatory warning to all that my characterizations are still very fanon-based, as I have been too busy to delve much into comics just yet lol)

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Brotherly Duties

Fandom: Batfamily (no specific source material/continuity)

Ship(s): Gen!!! Platonic!! Familial!! No batcest here

Characters (lee/ler): Lee!Jason, Damian, and Tim & Ler!Dick

Word Count: 6846 words

Summary: Whether it's to get his siblings to take a break or to stop them from being obnoxious little shits, Dick's patented brother-wrangling techniques are always successful.

[ao3 link]

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Dick didn’t think he’d ever get used to seeing Jason back in the Manor again.

He was used to forcing brotherly bonding by breaking into one of Jason’s safehouses, or cajoling Jason until he agreed to drop by Bludhaven for a movie night, with or without their other siblings. When Jason started dropping by the Batcave every once in a while, even if it was originally just to steal gear and gadgets from Bruce, Dick thought he might cry. Bruce almost did. And Dick finally did cry the first time he entered the Cave to find Jason giving Tim a few pointers on the sparring mats, because despite all the sarcasm and their argumentative tones, they were bonding.

Alfred, the miracle worker, was the first one to get Jason back upstairs, if only for a brief moment to pick up a care package that Alfred had put together for him. And once Jason had gotten through that first hurdle, it slowly got easier and easier to convince him to head upstairs for a bit, until Alfred had convinced him once more to start joining in on family dinners.

So walking into the den and seeing Jason engaged in a Mario Kart tournament with their baby brothers? Dick had to swallow that swell of emotion damned fast before any of them called him out for tearing up. And then he promptly vaulted over the back of the couch to prove who the real Mario Kart champion is.

Except, after (losing) only a couple more races, Damian was called away by a disappointed Bruce – apparently he had some big test coming up that he was meant to be studying for, but he’d snuck away to play video games with Jason and Tim instead.

Tim himself only lasted one more (lost) race after that before flitting off himself. Dick knew he was sneaking off to do some work, whether it was for their nighttime cases or something to finish up for W.E., despite the fact that he’d practically been ordered to take a break for the day. Dick also knew he was completely taking advantage of the fact of Jason being here, because Dick hated having to walk away when Jason was right there and willing to spend time with them and was unlikely to follow after and make Tim rest.

But Dick decided to let it slide, just this once. It’s not like he could reach his usual state of overworked before Alfred called them all for family dinner, and Dick could always force him to take a break later. Even if he had to sit on the kid so that he couldn’t reach his laptop. It wouldn’t be the first time.

And then it was just Dick, Jason, and the Nintendo Switch.

“You gonna back out, too?” Dick taunted, raising an eyebrow at Jason.

Jason scoffed, settling more firmly against the arm of the couch, bringing his socked feet up to rest on the cushions. It was a position he took up often when they played video games or watched movies here in the den when Jason was still a short, scrawny kid, all curled up like a cat despite being ready to spring up at any moment. It looked a little silly now, someone as large as Jason tucking his feet up like that, but it made Dick’s heart ache anyway.

“As if,” Jason said. “I’m gonna kick your ass.”

Dick couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, because you’ve been doing such a good job of that so far. Remind me, Jay, how many races have you won since I got here?”

Jason grumbled something that sounded rather like “shut the fuck up, Dickface,” clutching his controller closer to his chest. “Just pick the next race, already.”

Dick chose a track at random and settled in against his arm of the couch, locking into the race. Though it was a close race, Jason staying on his tail the entire time, Dick still won the race. And the next one. And the one after that. Dick couldn’t help but laugh, even as Jason fumed.

Jason chose the next track without a word, refusing to even look in Dick’s direction. Dick couldn’t wipe the grin off his face if he tried, and broke into even more laughter as Jason’s kart failed the startup boost and burst into a cloud of smoke. His laughter was quickly cut off as a foot jabbed into his arm, jostling him and making his own kart almost fly off the track.

“Hey!”

“What?” Jason said, as if he wasn’t stretched across the couch (curse his stupid Lazarus Pit induced growth spurt), and he shoved at Dick’s arm again.

“Cut it out, Jason!”

“I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”

Another light kick, this time to Dick’s hands in an attempt to knock the Joycon out of them. Dick cursed, barely keeping the controller from going flying, and Jason crowed as he pulled into the lead.

“Take that, Dickwing!”

“Jason!”

“What?”

Another kick, Dick just barely managing to evade it as he tried to regain first place. Jason’s second foot came into play then, one continuously jostling the arm nearest to Jason while the other tried to knock the controller from Dick’s hands. Dick couldn’t even fight Jason off, because he’d chosen a track with too many twists and turns to take his hands off the controller for too long. When the foot dedicated to shoving at Dick missed his arm and instead jabbed a toe into his ribs (which Dick totally didn’t flinch at, thank you very much), the solution came to Dick all at once.

He just hoped the Lazarus Pit hadn’t made his baby brother any less ticklish.

“That’s it,” Dick snapped at the next kick as he paused the game, grabbing an ankle in the same motion.

“Shit, wait!” Jason’s voice had gone hilariously high pitched, and he started kicking at Dick for a whole new reason. “Dick!”

“I’m not waiting for shit – you deserve this.”

Dick skittered his fingers against the socked sole in his grip and Jason grunted, sealing his lips shut. Unfortunately, Jason was a lot stronger now than he had been at thirteen, and he was easily able to rip his ankle out of Dick’s grip. He spared a moment to shove Dick into the arm of the couch with both feet before rolling over, trying to crawl over the arm of the couch to escape – as if that was somehow a better plan than just standing up from the couch and leaving.

Either way, it gave Dick the perfect opportunity to launch himself forward and sit across the backs of Jason’s thighs. Jason spat out a curse, kicking and twisting and bucking to try and throw Dick off to no avail.

“Get your fat ass off of me!”

Dick tutted, a habit he had slowly started picking up from Damian without realizing. “You’re gonna owe Alfred so much money in the swear jar by the time I’m done with you.”

Jason gave up on squirming, shooting Dick an absolutely lethal glare over his shoulder. “I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Mhm,” Dick said, absently, cataloguing Jason’s body language and facial expressions. “Sure.”

As skilled as Jason might have been at burying his thoughts and feelings (they were both trained by the Batman, after all), Dick was better at prying them out. Not only was Jason his first baby brother, as fraught as their relationship has been over the years, but he was the first son of the World’s Greatest Detective. Jason couldn’t hide those reactions from him.

The laughably awful escape plan, the lack of tension in Jason’s eyebrows, the twitching at the corners of Jason’s mouth. His nose wasn’t even scrunched up in anticipation of a snarl, which always happened when Jason was starting to get pissed off. Plus, while Dick could certainly take Jason in a fight (he’d been in the vigilante business a lot longer, after all), it’s not like he was extending a lot of effort into their little play tussle. If Jason had really wanted to throw Dick off earlier, he would have.

Jason was having fun.

And who was he to deny his little brother some silly goofing off? God knows Jason needed it.

And so Dick didn’t hesitate a second longer, reaching out to vibrate his fingers into the middle of Jason’s ribcage. Jason didn’t bother clamping his lips shut this time, instead burying his face into the couch as he let out a giggly yelp. His legs kicked out behind Dick, drumming against the couch cushions, and he tried to squeeze his arms against his sides for protection despite how awkward his position made it.

“Aww, Little Wing!” Dick couldn’t help but tease. “I think you’re even more ticklish now than when you were a kid.”

Jason peeled his face up from the cushion just long enough to shout a wobbly “Shut the fuck up!” before planting his face back in the fabric.

Dick laughed, squeezing sporadically up and down Jason’s sides just to watch him wiggle around like a frantic little worm. When they were younger, he used to curl up like a little pill bug whenever Dick or Bruce would tickle him, knees up to his chest and arms wrapped around his torso like it could ever save him from their wiggling fingers. It had never worked, of course – and was even less help to him when they realized just how ticklish Jason’s back was.

Speaking of…

Dick pulled his hands back, giving Jason a half-second of a breather, before delivering a series of sporadic, nibbling pinches traveling up Jason’s back. This time Jason shrieked, his legs scrabbling even harder at the cushions since they couldn’t curl up, and he reached back to try and slap at Dick’s hands. Being all bulky muscle now, he couldn’t quite contort that far anymore, so instead he settled for slapping at Dick’s knee.

“You dick!”

“Well, that is my name, Jay. Don’t wear it out.”

“You’re so fucking stupid!”

“I hope you know I’m keeping track so I can tell Alfred later. You’re up to at least six dollars, and that’s not even counting before I started tickling. You’re gonna get the disappointed grandpa look.”

Jason picked his head up to retort, but Dick chose that moment to start poking just below his shoulderblades, following along the edges of them. Instead of cursing Dick out again, he tumbled into bubbly giggles and shimmied his shoulders to try and throw off the attack. Dick laughed again, switching to prodding at the edges of Jason’s armpits.

“What’s-a-matter, Little Wing? Does that tickle? You regret messing with me yet?”

Jason’s laughter spiked, but it had nothing to do with the tickling. “You kidding me?” He warbled through his laughter. “I died, I’m not gonna break for a little tickling, Dickhead.”

Dick frowned at the death joke (he didn’t think he’d ever feel comfortable with Jason joking about it), but narrowed his eyes as the rest of the sentence hit him. He paused his fingers, but even though his panting giggles, Jason still kept trying to (very obviously half-heartedly) wiggle his way out.

“Oh, yeah?”

Something about his tone made Jason freeze in place. Jason slowly turned to look over his shoulder, making eye contact with Dick (bright, smiling eyes, and so full of life).

“Dick.”

Dick raised an eyebrow. “Jason.”

“Come on, man.”

Dick’s other eyebrow jumped up. “You wanna be tickled that bad?”

Jason’s eyes went wide and he started wiggling again. “Wait– no!”

Dick chuckled and wormed his fingers under Jason’s body, settling his fingertips into the divots beside Jason’s hip bones.

“Any last words?”

“Um. Sorry?”

“Hmm. I don’t think you are, though.”

And Dick dug his fingers in, squeezing at Jason’s hips mercilessly. The noise Jason let out was almost a scream before he fell into hysterical, hiccuping cackles. His body went limp under Dick, giving up on fighting or even trying to pill-bug for protection as he laughed himself hoarse.

“Are you sorry now, you little shit?”

Jason managed a mangled “swear jar” through his guffaws.

Dick grumbled, but couldn’t help but grin. It had been so long since he’d gotten to goof off with Jason like this. It felt like something inside him was finally clicking back into place, the final piece left to settle his soul ever since getting Jason back.

“Okay!” Jason wheezed, knocking Dick out of his thoughts. “Okay, I’m sorry!”

Dick chuckled, but stopped immediately. He swung a leg over Jason so he was no longer straddling him, but sitting against the back of the couch with his legs tossed over the backs of Jason’s legs. Jason panted and giggled and finally curled up like the little pill bug he was. Dick reached out and rubbed a hand up and down his back to help him calm down.

Jason’s eyes had drifted shut as he recovered, but Dick caught a shadow lurking out of the corner of his eye. Glancing up, he saw Bruce hovering in the doorway to the den, eyebrows drawn in worry. Dick inwardly winced, recalling the frantic scream Jason had let out only a few minutes before. He couldn’t exactly blame Bruce for coming running at the noise – and clearly just back from the office too, based on his attire.

But Dick just grinned at Bruce, winking and wiggling the fingers of his free hand in explanation. Bruce’s face cleared, his mouth twitching up briefly in amusement (what would likely be a chuckle on anyone normal) as his eyes melted in that fond way they tended to whenever Dick or his siblings did something Bruce found particularly endearing. Dick had to look away, always feeling oddly vulnerable under that gaze, and after a few more moments of staring, Dick saw Bruce’s shadow retreat. The warmth his smile had left in Dick’s chest had not.

“You know, Dickie,” Jason said, having finally caught his breath, “one of these days, one of us is gonna get you back.”

Dick laughed, briefly clawing up Jason’s back just to hear him squeal again before going back to rubbing it soothingly. “Keep telling yourself that, Little Wing.”

Jason scoffed. “You better watch your back. I’m bigger than you now, and I remember all your tickle spots too.”

The warmth still sitting in Dick’s chest turned into a swarm of butterflies. Fuck Bruce, actually, for tickling him in front of Jason often enough for that information to stick.

* * * * *

Apparently, being benched meant you couldn’t even run comms these days. Dick had to shove down the wave of frustration as Alfred shooed him away from the Batcomputer, as if a shoulder injury somehow meant he couldn’t operate a keyboard and talk into a microphone. He wasn’t an invalid, thank you very much. But Dick knew better than to argue with Alfred, and his tone brokered no room to do so as he told Dick to “go check on your brother.”

Because Dick wasn’t the only vigilante benched that night.

And as Dick picked his way through the Cave, Alfred kicking him off comms suddenly made a lot more sense. He could hear heavy breathing coming from the training mats, the sound of grunts and fists meeting vinyl. Dick sighed and changed course, heading for the training area instead of the stairs. Of course Damian was frustrated with being benched. He wasn’t even hurt.

Dick watched Damian train for a few minutes. His face was creased with irritation, sweat dripping from his jaw and hairline. Dick could see where the exhaustion pulled at Damian’s limbs, making his form sloppy and imprecise (at least, sloppy and imprecise for a former assassin and a current Bat). He had his fists wrapped properly in tape, but Dick could see his boxing gloves abandoned at the edge of one of the training mats. The velcro strap on one of them was broken, but whether it was from overuse or Damian’s frustration was unclear.

“Shouldn’t baby bats be in bed this time of night?” Dick called out eventually, kicking off his slides to step onto the training mats.

“I should be out on the streets with Batman,” Damian ground out, throwing a particularly vicious punch at the bag.

Dick sighed again, making his way behind the punching bag to brace it for Damian. “You know the rules, kiddo. No patrol before school tests, not even a reduced one. You need your rest.”

“It is a waste of time! My classmates are imbeciles, I could take the exam high on fear toxin and still get the highest grade of them all.”

Dick bit back a reprimand, seeing as Damian would certainly not be receptive to it at the moment. He’d been doing better with his peers recently, anyway – he had even joined the art club and started making a few friends. It was more than likely his anger talking than any real malice.

“I know how smart you are, Dami, we all do. But Robin still has rules, and they’re there to look out for you.”

At least, most of the time. Dick could still easily recall just how stifling a number of Bruce’s rules could get, and Damian wasn’t the only Robin to ever feel held back by them.

But Damian just heaved out a large sigh, briefly resting his forehead against the punching bag. “I know.” He just as quickly pulled back, fixing the scowl back onto his face. “But that does not mean I should neglect my training. Just because I am forced to stay in for the night does not mean there aren't ways to improve myself.”

Dick pursed his lips and glanced at a nearby clock (analog – all the digital clocks had been removed from the cave shortly after Jason started re-integrating. Dick still didn’t know who was responsible). It wasn’t too late yet, and Dick was all too familiar with how vigilantism could screw up one’s sleep schedule. If he tried to force Damian into bed now, he’d just lie there awake for the next couple of hours.

“Alright, Dami, we can train for a bit. But only for another 45 minutes, then it’s bedtime for baby bats.”

Damian scoffed and looked away, crossing his arms. “Tt. I do not need your assistance with my training. You’re still recovering.”

Dick rolled his eyes, then rolled his injured shoulder. It twinged a bit, but nothing like the pain when he had fumbled his grapple and almost wrenched it from its socket. “I’m fine – almost good as new! I can help you run through some drills, or work on your gymnastics.”

After some more prodding, Damian agreed to let Dick guide him through some new gymnastic and acrobatic moves, provided that Dick did not do anything to strain his arm and only stepped in when Damian needed it. They worked through a few flips and various ways to incorporate such moves into fighting. As always, Damian was a quick study.

And as always, Damian was far too stubborn and far too focused to quit when their time ran out.

“Dami, come on.” Dick rubbed at his eyes, feeling oddly tired himself despite the hours he usually kept. The injury must have taken more out of him than he realized, even as healed as it was. Maybe Bruce and Alfred were right to keep him benched for this long. “Time’s up, we can come back to it tomorrow when we’re fresh.”

Damian let out a frustrated growl. “I almost had it!”

“I know, buddy. And I bet you’ll get it even faster tomorrow, when you’re fresh and well-rested.”

Damian didn’t listen, continuing to try and execute the flip and only succeeding in flopping himself to the plush mats over and over.

“Damian.”

Damian did not budge. He flipped again, his body once again not reaching the rotation it needed to successfully execute the move. Except this time, Dick could track the trajectory – Damian would try to land on his feet, but at that angle… well, he would probably wind up benched for a lot longer than one school night.

Dick launched himself forward, managing to catch Damian around the middle to stop his momentum and halt the bad landing, but wrenched his injured shoulder in the process. He hissed a breath in through his teeth, hoping it was quiet enough that Damian didn’t hear, and lowered them both to the ground.

“I had it, Grayson!”

“No, you didn’t!” Dick snapped, then paused and took a couple deep breaths. Damian stayed quiet while he composed himself. “We’ll talk about what went wrong and how to prevent it tomorrow. Are you tuckered out yet?”

Damian crossed his arms. “If you’re so tired, then you go upstairs to bed. I’m fine to continue on my own.”

��Alright.” Dick took another slow breath to calm himself. “That’s it.”

Dick dug his fingertips into Damian’s sides, squeezing and wiggling away. Damian, clearly not expecting the sudden attack, had no hope for defense or hiding his reactions. He burst into boyish giggles instantly, slapping and shoving at Dick’s hands as he tried to wriggle away.

Dick grinned, the laughter of one of his baby brothers melting away his frustration faster than anything else ever could. “Maybe this’ll finally tire you out, huh?”

“Richard! Wait!”

Dick chuckled. “Why do you guys always tell me to wait? Wait for what, kiddo?” His hands converged on Damian’s belly, laughing along when his giggles got even squeakier. “It’s not like anyone’s gonna come to your rescue.”

Damian grumbled through his laughter, finally managing to wiggle out of Dick’s hold. “I don’t need a rescue, I can take care of myself!”

Dick let Damian retreat a few steps before hauling himself to his feet. He put on a show about it, stumbling around a bit and bringing one hand up to his head. “Uh oh, Baby Bat – better look out. I think I’m being taken over… by the Tickle Monster!”

Damian tried to scowl at him even as a goofy smile tugged at the edges of his lips. He clicked his tongue, watching Dick’s movements carefully. “Tt, the Tickle Monster isn’t real, Richard. I am too old for such childish games.”

Dick stumbled forward a few steps, reaching a jerking hand out to Damian. “Oh, save me, Dami! There’s only one thing that can help me now!”

Damian’s retreat faltered, one eyebrow raising in curiosity. “Which is?”

Dick grinned. Gotcha. “Your giggles!”

“I do not– Richard!!”

Dick laughed as he tackled Damian down to the mats, careful to twist them so he didn’t land on top of the boy or on his injured shoulder. He rolled so his own back was against the mats with Damian’s back flush against his chest, and made sure Damian was secure in one of his patented Octopus Grip hugs before resuming his attack. Damian burst back into silly giggles as one of Dick’s hands attacked his stomach, the other climbing up and down his sides and ribs sporadically. Every few seconds he would switch hands, and Damian squeaked each time without fail.

“What was that about not giggling, Baby Bat? What’s that I hear right now?”

“Shut up!”

Dick laughed, but laid off the teasing. The kid could only take so much playful embarrassment before he got genuinely upset, and Dick didn’t want to push it when he was already having such a frustrating night. He kept his tickling light, silly, and jumping, not wanting to overwhelm Damian on top of everything, but despite his squirming and protestations, there was no strain to his laughter or genuine undercurrent of anger in his threats.

Yeah, maybe Damian needed these giggles just as much as Dick did.

“Tuckered out now, kiddo? Tickle Monster’s happy to stick around if you’ve still got some energy to spend.”

“You’re ridiculous!”

“Well, in that case…”

Dick heaved them both up to a sitting position, barely giving Damian a moment of reprieve before reaching down to squeeze at the muscles just above his knees. Damian shrieked, laughter growing from giggles to guffaws. Though he kicked out to try and dislodge Dick’s hands, tugging at Dick’s fingers with his own, Damian still easily melted back into Dick’s chest as he laughed. Dick couldn’t help the fond smile that rose to his lips as he tapered the tickling off, pressing a kiss to the top of Damian’s sweaty head.

“Hit the showers, bud, then the hay. Got it?”

Damian huffed out a large sigh, clearly swallowing back residual giggles as he leaned even further back into Dick for a few moments. “Yes, Richard.” He hauled himself to his feet before holding out a hand to help Dick up. “Get an ice pack for your shoulder, and perhaps locate some anti-inflammatories before you head to bed as well.”

“I told you buddy, I’m fine–”

Damian shot him an unimpressed look. “I heard you when you saved me from injury, I know you aggravated it. I will tell Pennyworth if you don’t take care of it.”

Dick sighed, pulling Damian into a side hug with a gentle smile. “Always looking out for me, aren’t you, bud?”

Damian rolled his eyes, as if it was a stupid thing to take note of. “Of course. Just because you’re not Batman anymore doesn’t mean that stops.”

Dick pulled him in for a full hug at that. “You’ll always be my Robin, Damian.”

Damian hummed and gave him a quick squeeze before detangling himself from Dick’s limbs. “I’m serious,” he called over his shoulder on his way to the shower. “I’ll tell Alfred if you don’t take care of it.”

Dick grumbled under his breath, but obediently turned to head toward the medbay. If he wanted to help Damian perfect that flip tomorrow, then he needed to make sure his shoulder was as good as he could get it.

* * * * *

By the time Dick finished up his patrol and returned to the Batcave, Tim was already planted in the Batcomputer’s chair, hard at work despite the cast that now swallowed his left calf. Red Robin had taken a nasty hit on patrol, thrown full-force through an already-crumbling wall by an irate Killer Croc. Dick was just grateful that he hadn’t gotten hurt worse, walking away from that fight with only a broken leg was a near-miracle. Clearly Tim didn’t feel the same way, if his scowl was anything to go by.

Dick sighed and eyed the several Zesti cans littering the desk. Tim hadn’t even been back in the Cave for two hours. “Bruce is going to kill you. You know his rules about food and drink near the Batcomputer.”

Tim shrugged one shoulder, not bothering to turn around. “What B doesn’t know won’t hurt him. I needed the caffeine.”

“You should be resting, kiddo – Croc’s back in custody, it’s okay to take a break.”

“No time.” Tim waved him off. “Jason asked for my help tracking down some murders in Crime Alley, whoever it is is good. And Two-Face escaped last week and we’re no closer to finding him. Ivy’s seemed jittery lately, despite how well she and Harley had been doing, so I need to keep an eye on both of them. And I’ve got this case for the Teen Titans –”

“Whoa, Timmy – take a breath. Not all of that has to get done tonight.”

Tim took a deep breath in, then suddenly finally turned to look at Dick. His face was twisted in disgust, wrinkled button nose and all.

“You smell like shit.”

“Gee, I wonder why. Who could we possibly know that frequents sewers around here?”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Go take a shower, I can’t focus with you stinking up the place.”

Dick raised an eyebrow. “Maybe I’ll just stay right here, then. Drive you out with the smell so you can finally get some sleep.”

“I’m fine – I’m not even tired.”

“Tim, your eyebags have eyebags – just looking at you is making me tired.”

“Then maybe you should go to bed.”

Dick pinched the bridge of his nose. Getting Tim to take a break was nearly impossible, and he didn’t know if he had the energy or patience for it tonight after dealing with Croc. He was glad that Batman and Robin were handling things with the GCPD, letting Nightwing head back first.

“Look,” Dick said, keeping his voice light and level. “You have until I’m in civvies to clean up the desk and finish up, and then we’re both heading up to bed – even if I have to carry you up there.”

“Mhm, yeah, Dick. Sure.”

Dick narrowed his eyes at the back of Tim’s head. “I will sit on you.”

“Good luck with that.”

Dick held in another sigh and made for the locker rooms, snatching up some solvent for his mask along the way. He took his time in the shower for once, forcefully scrubbing the sewer stench off his body while letting the hot water ease the aches and pains from getting thrown around like a ragdoll. When he was finished and dried, he pulled on a soft, warm pair of sweatpants and broke into Jason’s locker to steal an oversized sweatshirt (it wasn’t like Jason used the Cave’s locker room often enough to miss his clothes – Alfred always washed and replaced them before Jason even noticed).

Smelling fresh and feeling cozy, Dick emerged from the steaming locker room and back into the chill of the Batcave. Tim hadn’t moved an inch in the time he was gone, still hunched over the Batcomputer. In fact, Dick could swear there were even more cans of Zesti than when he had left. Where was he even hiding it all? There was no way Alfred allowed that much soda into the Manor, let alone the Batcave.

“Come on,” Dick said, jostling Tim’s chair as he approached. “Let’s take care of these cans and catch some Z’s.”

Tim didn’t dignify him with a response, only throwing him a bloodshot glare. Dick took a careful breath and switched tactics. Flippant sometimes worked with Tim, depending on his mood, but it was more the tactic to use on Jason. Tim, attention-starved little gremlin that he was growing up, historically responded a lot better to affection – so long as it didn’t feel like coddling.

So Dick carefully leaned up against the back of his chair, reaching down to squeeze gently at Tim’s shoulders to try and get him to release some of the tension there. “Alright, bud. Anything I can help with?”

Tim shot him a hesitant look. “Not really. I’m mostly just combing through security footage for Jason, right now.”

Dick hummed, turning his squeezing into more of a shoulder massage. “Two sets of eyes are better than one, right? Let me help – you’ll get it done faster, which means you’ll get some rest sooner.”

“I thought you were tired.”

“Never too tired for you, Baby Bird.”

Some of the tension bled out of Tim and he blinked heavily before turning back to his screens. Instead of pulling up one of the spare office chairs they had tucked away exactly for this purpose, Dick continued to lean up against the back of Tim’s. It left him with easy access to Tim’s neck, shoulders, and upper back – all places he carried immense amounts of tension from hunching over computers and laptops just like this. He kept up the gentle massage as they reviewed Crime Alley’s limited CCTV, and despite Tim’s evident frustration with their lack of progress, his shoulders stayed relaxed under Dick’s ministrations.

After a while, Dick switched up tactics. One of his hands travelled down to rub at the gooseflesh along Tim’s arms, thanks to him only wearing an oversized t-shirt in a literal cave (though, notably, it was one of Dick’s soft old t-shirts, clearly stolen from his locker just like Dick stole from Jason’s, and something about that made his heart melt). The other hand travelled up, combing through Tim’s hair and scratching gently at his scalp. After a few passes, Dick could feel Tim fighting off the urge to go completely boneless. A careful peek over the chair and Tim’s shoulder showed his eyelids fluttering as well, valiantly trying not to close completely.

“I know what you’re doing,” Tim grumbled.

“Oh?” Dick’s voice was low and quiet, as soothing as he could make it. “Do you, now?”

“Yes. And it’s not gonna work.”

Dick hummed. “Seems like it’s working to me.”

Tim frowned, bracing himself for a moment, and pulled away from Dick’s hands, rolling the chair closer to the desk to try and create some space between them. Dick’s blunt fingernails caught on the nape of Tim’s neck as he rolled away, earning him a rather adorable little squeak and a brief turtling of his shoulders.

Well, there was an idea.

Maybe a different method of brother-wrangling was in order.

“Well it’s not,” Tim said, clearing his throat and shaking his head immediately after, clearly trying to wake himself up.

Dick sighed, long and dramatic. “Then I’m afraid you’ve brought this upon yourself, Timmy.”

Tim whipped around to look at him, eyes wide. “Wait– what?”

Dick’s only answer was a mischievous smirk as he rolled the desk chair even further forward, until Tim’s chest was flush with the desk. No squirming away on his watch. He leaned up against the back of the chair (careful not to put too much pressure, lest he crush his baby brother) to prevent Tim from pushing back and set to work, skittering his fingers around Tim’s neck and ears. Tim, tired as he was, immediately burst into bubbly giggles, unable to bury them like usual. His shoulders hunched up as he chased after Dick’s hands with his own.

“Dick! Wait, no!”

“No more waiting, Baby Bird! I tried to be nice, but it looks like now you’re just gonna have to giggle yourself out. Let me know when you’re ready to take a break from working, yeah?”

Tim squealed again, thrashing in his seat as Dick dragged all his nails up the length of his neck, bursting back into giggles as Dick went back to spidering all over the delicate skin.

“That’s not fair!”

“‘Course it’s fair, Timmy! It’s practically Big Brother Law that I tickle you a certain amount per week. I’ve been slacking lately – gotta make up for lost time.”

Finally, Tim managed to latch onto Dick’s wrists, and Dick let him pull them away, if only for a moment. He panted and tried to pout up at Dick, but the expression was rather ineffective when he couldn’t quite wipe the smile off his face.

“Come on, just let me finish? Just thirty more minutes, I swear.”

Dick titled his head, pretending to consider the offer. “Mmmmm-nope!”

At a speed even the Flash would be impressed by, Dick twisted his hands out of Tim’s grip and shot them down between Tim’s body and the armrests of the chair. Expecting the worst, Tim shrieked before Dick had even touched him, plastering his arms down against his ribs.

No matter, Dick could easily come back for those later if Tim kept being stubborn. Dick instead targeted Tim’s hips, readjusting so he was attacking from either side of the chair rather than from above. Tim snorted, which made Dick laugh, which made Tim’s hands shoot up to cover his nose and mouth.

“You’re such an asshole!”

“Sorry, what was that? I couldn’t hear you over all this laughter.” Dick vibrated his hands into Tim’s stomach, making Tim burst out into full-bellied laughter. “Man, it’s so loud in here, huh? That echo really carries.”

“Dick!”

“Hey, could you keep it down? I’m trying to focus on this CCTV here and you’re really distracting me right now.”

“Fuck you!”

Dick laughed again. “Jason would be proud.”

Tim’s hands latched back onto Dick’s wrists. Success. Dick grinned down at the rats nest that was Tim’s hair and put his plan into action, slowly crawling up Tim’s sides.

The thing was, having not been tickled much growing up, neither by the neglectful Drakes nor his friends, Tim was a bit inexperienced in how to defend himself. Despite Dick’s countless tickle attacks from the moment he named Tim his baby brother (long before the adoption papers came along), Tim had never really grown out of that.

For someone who was always thinking twelve steps ahead and had at least six contingencies for every possible outcome, Tim was on a rather one-track mind when he was tickled. Usually, that one track was simply Oh God, Stop Dick’s Hands. It was a sound line of logic – after all, if Dick’s hands stopped, so did the tickling. However, Tim rarely took into account how laughter weakened even the hardest-earned muscles and leached the coordination from even the most well-trained gymnasts. Dick knew from experience – he flopped around like a fish out of water when he got tickled. All this to say, Tim tended to forget that in trying to capture or push away Dick’s tickling fingers, he left open weak spots that were all-too-easy for Dick to exploit.

Like now, with Dick’s fingers slowly crawling onto his now-exposed lower ribs. Tim cackled and, based on the thumping coming from below the desk, was kicking his legs fiercely. He didn’t seem to realize that the higher Dick tickled, the higher his own arms went too, exposing all his worst tickle spots.

“Last chance, Baby Bird. Taking a break?”

“N-no! I have to finish–!”

Dick let out a fake sigh. “Then you leave me no choice, kiddo.”

Dick latched onto Tim’s upper ribs and Tim’s arms finally crashed back down, trying to launch a defense all too late. Tim wheezed before bursting into the loudest, most hysterical laughter Dick had ever heard anyone make (outside of Harley and the Joker, that was, but they were outliers and should not be counted). He tossed his head back against the chair and shook it, scrubbing his already messy hair into one big knot against the leather.

Even with Tim’s cheeks going an endearing tomato-red from the laughter, Dick didn’t stop. He knew Tim’s bull-headedness all too well for that. He poked and prodded, scribbled and scratched, searching around for those hidden little hyper-ticklish spots across Tim’s upper ribs and armpits with relative ease, despite the arms pressed against them.

“Okay!” Tim eventually shrieked. “Okay, okay!”

Dick didn’t stop his attack, but he did slow his fingers slightly. “‘Okay’ what?”

“I’ll – I’ll take a break!”

Dick blew a stream of air against Tim’s ear and neck, just to hear the squeaky snort he let out, his head jolting sideways for protection. “Hmm, I dunno if I believe that.”

“I promise! Dick, please!”

“Alright, alright.”

Dick chuckled and pulled back, wheeling the chair away from the desk and turning Tim to face him. His face was flushed, his eyes were teary, and Dick wasn’t even sure if his hair was salvageable at that point or if Alfred would wind up having to cut some mats out. Still, the dopey smile remained plastered to Tim’s lips as he went completely boneless in the chair.

“You, Baby Bird, are sleeping all day tomorrow. Even if I have to sit on you.”

Tim blinked blearily at him. “Don’t you drive back to Blud tomorrow?”

Dick shrugged. “The city can survive another day without Nightwing. Not sure my baby brother can go on another day without Dick Grayson.”

Tim rolled his eyes, but didn’t correct him. Dick fought off a frown. Maybe he needed to make the drive from Bludhaven more often, if Tim was missing him enough to not give him shit. Or maybe Tim was just that tired.

Either way, Dick pushed the thought away for the night. Deciding the cans were a lost cause for the night (which, Tim was totally getting grounded from the Batcomputer for those), he leaned down and swept Tim into his arms, tossing Tim over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Tim squawked in protest.

“What are you doing?!”

“Cashing in on that break you promised – we are having a movie night, all curled up in your bed–”

“It’s covered in W.E. documents.”

“– all curled up in my bed with warm blankets and Alfred’s famous hot cocoa–”

“You’re just trying to get me to fall asleep.”

“You’ll keep beating sleep off with a stick if I leave you alone. If I can get you to rest with some hot cocoa, brother cuddles, and hair pets, then I’m willing to make that sacrifice.”

“Oh no,” Tim snarked. “Dick Grayson being forced to cuddle, what ever will he do?”

Dick grinned and bit back a laugh, tweaking the back of Tim’s knee to make him yelp. “Watch it. Timmy. We can still go for round two.”

Tim grumbled under his breath, something about stupid big brothers and revenge, but Dick decided that could wait for another day. He had a baby brother to tuck into bed, and hopefully his own sleep to catch soon after.

#tickle fic #my writing #squealing santa #ss2k24 #batfam tickling #dc tickling #lee!tim drake #lee!jason todd #lee!damian wayne #ler!dick grayson #ticklish!tim drake #ticklish!jason todd #ticklish!damian wayne #dc #batfam #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake

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oifaaa · 8 months ago

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Actually i think the funniest option is having jason and steph being the same age cause it means jason holds one year over tim but steph, whos birthday is august 11th, gets 5 days over jason and she never lets him forget that

You've always got to take into account those 6 months Jason spent composting which I also don't think steph would even let Jason forget 5 days older no no no steph is 6 months and 5 days older

#ask #anon #jason and steph being the same age does tickle me #bc currently in canon theyre technically less then a year apart in age #taking in jasons dead days #which why wouldn't you consider jasons dead days #its funny #keeping track of ages in the dc universe must be so hard #so many people have died that its like #this might be your 30th birthday but you did spend 2 year's dead so your age is only 28

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surelysilly · 10 months ago

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i'm just making the rounds at this point haha

Cobblepot beckons Danny closer with a slight crook to his fingers, and a weak part of him bristles at it, but. Really, who is he to refuse? Gamely, he ambles over, the other staff's feelings going weird and vaguely uncomfortable. The man reaches out and ruffles Danny's hair, rounding the touch off with a firm pat to his cheek — he can't help but lean into the cold palm, to chase the comforting chill. Cologne stings his nose. “Good man,” Cobblepot says, pleased, but then clicks his tongue, tapping the underside of Danny's scruffy chin before withdrawing. “We do have facial hair requirements, however, do remember that. How much have you had to drink tonight?” Smiling limply, Danny says, “Only had one drink, promise,” and gets an arched eyebrow for it. “Sorry, boss. I'll clean up.” “See that you do. Dismissed.”

#dpxdc #dp x dc #an au of my au once more... who will i write a little treat about next lol #got scarecrow... penguin... maybe harley and posion ivy...#if an idea tickles my fancy... i just wanna write Danny more at his almost lowest of lows and yet somehow make friends with these guys #u kno... they're not the best people but they end up caring for Danny in the only ways they can even if they're just using him (and he them #litu au #silly snips

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widowsistersandfriends · 1 year ago

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Lasso of Tickle Truth

Summary: You are Wonder Woman's most evenly matched enemy, but she has a combination of ways to win.

Note: This was just an idea swirling in my head, and I apologize if some of the details about her aren't portrayed that well! Thank you for your patience!

Word Count: 1133

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You stumbled into a run-down shed, desperate for any hiding place. You were finally out of view from an ongoing chase with your arch nemesis: Wonder Woman. You two were in constant battles, trying to defeat the other once and for all. Your current heist was to steal a sacred document that was too important to lose. You were successful in this task, but were too late in escaping before being seen. This is how you were in the position you were in now.

You breathed heavily, fleeing by car and then foot. It was dark in the shed, a place that probably hadn’t been visited in decades. A wood chip fell off the ceiling, startling you. You silently cursed, knowing that you needed all the help you needed. Having things fall apart only meant more noise to be made and a higher chance of you being found.

You heard footsteps outside, getting closer by the minute. You held your breath, hoping it was any random bystander. Anyone but her.

“Sorry I’m late,” you heard, just outside of the shed. You scooted in as far as you could, trying to disappear in the darkness.

“Not gonna speak?” Wonder Woman asked.

Your eyes widened when you saw a golden glow appear outside of the shed. If she used her lasso of truth on you, you knew you were done for. She would find out where you hid the document. All of that planning to escape would be wasted.

There was a moment of silence, and you were unsure of what you should do next. You were too scared of what her next move would be.

After a moment, the flimsy door to the shed flew open, revealing the superhero and her lasso in front of you. You backed up against the wall, knowing that you were stuck. You felt around in the darkness for a secret back door. Your hand felt the shape of a knob and quickly turned it to open the door. You pushed it open and sprinted out, not getting very far before her lasso was roped around your torso.

You fell to the ground, struggling to get out, as she quickly caught up, pinning you to the ground.

“Well well well, what do we have here?” Wonder Woman asked, raising an eyebrow. With the lasso of truth around you. Luckily for you, your power was a strong ability to fight against this.

“N-noth-ing,” you struggled to say.

“I know you stole the sacred document. You’re not going to fool me,” she said, smirking down at you.

You turned your head away, refusing to fall for her trap.

“I can fight your silly lasso you know,” you spat back at her while glowering.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, and it felt as if you were two siblings fighting rather than two arch enemies.

“Maybe I’ll need something a little more powerful then hmm?” Wonder Woman suggested. With the lasso still around your torso and arms, she began to tickle your sides.

“NOHOHO NOHOT THAHAHAT,” you shouted, knowing that this is one thing you could never defend against. Especially when you were stuck in her lasso.

“What’s this? The big bad schemer is ticklish? Who would’ve thought this was how you were gonna lose…” she commented with a grin.

“AHAHAHAHA IHIHI WOHOHONT LOHOHOSE,” you squealed, as her fingers moved up to scratch away in and around your ribs.

“You may be able to fight the lasso pretty well, but combining it with tickling will make you spill for sure,” she said, now taking her finger and wiggling it in your belly button.

You shrieked, bucking so hard that you were able to flip onto your side, desperately trying to protect your sensitive giggle button.

“Awww does that tickle? Is that what this button does? It makes you laugh?” She asked, repeatedly poking into it, causing you to scream for her to stop.

“Tell me.” She demanded.

You were weakened by the tickles, and the lasso of truth was getting more and more difficult to fight against.

“N-never!” You barely said, as she flipped you back to your original position, face up.

“We’ll see about that. You know the thing is, I have intel on all of my enemies. I happen to know a little someone has very ticklish feet,” she said with a wicked grin and sat on your shins.

“NO! DONT YOU DAHAHAHARE,” you laughed while screaming and thrashing around. You desperately tried to take the lasso off, but Wonder Woman was quick, turning around and squeezing your hips, making you collapse again with a squeal.

With that, she continued to rake her nails over your sensitive soles, holding your toes back and tickling underneath.

“OHOHOKAY IHIHI GIHIHIVE,” you shouted, as she slowed her evil fingers.

“Speak now or forever hold your peace,” she said with a wink. You squirmed uncomfortably, before blurting out the location when she gave your knee a squeeze.

“IHIHIN THE HEHEADQUARTERS,” you squealed out.

“Thanks for the confirmation,” she said with a smirk.

“What do you mean?!?” You asked.

“Oh I figured, but at the same time it’s always fun to pick you apart,” she replied, as you flopped backwards with an eye roll.

“It is so funny though that you’re so weak to tickles,” she commented, gently flipping you over and tickling your back and neck while you were still in her lasso.

“NOHOHOOHO PLEHEHEHEASE IHIHIVE HAHAHAD ENOHOUGH,” you squealed, turning bright red.

“It’s fun messing with someone who’s supposed to be equally matched with me,” she said, now letting you out of her lasso. You quickly tried to yank it, wanting to expose her secrets. However, it backfired as she gave it a much stronger yank, as she captured you and tickled up and down your sides. You entered yet again another fit of laughter, smacking her to tap out. You cursed yourself for this evil weakness. But being human, you knew she had to be ticklish as well.

“Oh big bad Wonder Woman~are you ticklish?” You asked, before tackling her and pinning her arms above her head.

“I’m not even touching you yet,” you teased, as she was already giggling like crazy. With that, you used your free hand to tickle her armpits, letting her experience the torture you just went through. You blew a big raspberry on her stomach while tickling her sides, which got a great reaction.

You finally let her up, knowing how bad it was.

“Maybe we have more in common than we thought. Shall we team up?” Wonder Woman asked jokingly.

“Yeah we should just go and use tickling as our new power,” you joked in reply.

“Oh I know you’d love to stay the villain though,” she teased, as you avoided eye contact and blushed.

“Knew it.”

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If you made it this far and would like to support my writing or request a commission, check out my Ko-fi!

#wonder woman #wonder woman x reader #diana prince #diana of themyscira #ticklish!reader #ler!wonderwoman #ler!reader #lee!reader #tickle fic #dc fanfic #dcu #tickle fics

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solkizaa · 1 month ago

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Cass Doodle- Yeah thats all folks lmao

#Cassandra Cain #batfam #batman #dc comics #have I ever mentioned that Cass may or may not be my favourite #theres something about her that tickles my brain #cant tell if I wanna be her or if I wanna be her lmao #her vibes are so *insert very enthusiastic head nodding*#Man I really wish I had her vibes #shes peak #okay ill shut up now

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scribe-of-hael · 13 days ago

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re:different interpretations of a particular character across media. Not the same anon but I think an accessible point of comparison is in comics especially Marvel or DC where different characters are regularly reimagined and can sometimes vastly differ depending on the writer and story that writer wants to tell. Like the Harley Quinn played by Margot Robbie is vastly different from how she was originally conceived (and even from movie to movie depending on who’s directing). And they’re both different than how she is in the animated Harley Quinn Show or who’s writing her in the comics. They’re allowed to act differently because they’re operating in different roles for different purposes. Transformers has basically always functioned like this too. The Harley in B:TAS isn’t going to act like the one in the Harley Quinn show because it would be out of character for that version of her, the same way you wouldn’t expect Starscream from Transformers Animated to act like the one in Prime. Not to say these shows don’t have their issues, but I just bring it up to express that continuity wise it’s more about maintaining internal consistency within the story and the following through if you set something up to be payed off eventually then adhering to strict rules for a specific character.

Yes! I think that's what I was kinda getting at myself (I feel like I lost my point in the post and the subject maybe, because now I'm rereading it and it's more of op saying "he's within his character to act this way!" And that's ok! 100%) but yes anon this is kinda what I was getting at.

Esspcially since I used to be a very big Marvel fan, these characters have seen so many variants of each other. Even in uts own media, Loki being a great example both in and out of comic, in the mcu and his own show.

There are Loki variants, they all kinda uobokd these "Loki like" traits, however they are their OWN person ,their OWN Loki. With different stories, roles, personalities that make them unquie but still inherently Loki.

I feel this way with Starscream and his Variants. As you said TFa and TFP are , both Starscreams but they are very different. They share the deviousness, cunning, and backstabbing nature. They both are kiss asses who won't hesitate to kill you if he sees an opening. But put them in a room they are so different in how they go about things.

I feel Tfa is way more stubborn and head strong, wanting to be cunning but also lieo LEMME KILL THIS BITCH IM SO DONE BEING SUBTLE- while TFP is way more prone to cowarding away from things. It fits both their narratives and their responses to their own Megatron. Because TFA Megs is NOTHING like TFP in the slightest.

Same as G1 and Sky bound Starscream. Look the same, BUT ARE NOT EVEN CLOSE TO BEING THE SAME. Sjosjdjdd who have a smol silly villian for giggles to literally murderous psychopath. Lol

I think that is my problem with TF:ES and Armada going into the rest of the trilogy. Is the Obvious want to step away from these inherently Starscream characterization, and IMMEDIATELY backpedleing.

You can not, set up this character to lead into an arc, to address these issues and then. Not only abandon it. But use a poor excuse of exposition, to say "Well Starscream does what he does." When in the VERY SAME SHOW, you have SHOWN his actions to contradict that very explanation.

No it is not in Earthspark Starscream's character to do and be bad because that 1. Wasn't established to be the case and 2. The episode of his introduction was literally based off of "Starscream is as selfish as they come" and SHOWING that statement to be FALSE by saving Hashtag.

*inhales*

*exhales*

I get the perspective that , Starscream can and should be allowed to be evil/bad as he has always been. You're allowed to enjoy that ! You're allowed to enjoy him that ! I do in his variants even if I make not like the media he come that time (looks at Sky bound) but I can appricate it.

However, it is also allowed to want more than this copy paste character for him. Because he is allowed to be different for each story, esspcially if the story sets him up that way.

I think as the reader/audience the biggest problem, with not just Transformers, but things like Marvel/DC, anything adjacent that has reoccurring characters of different variants to just. Is to have the expectation that they MUST abide by these characters "rules". And that to break them, is to some how destroy the character. People are allowed to want more for a character in a franchise that is not afraid to change up their characters. For better or even somtimes for worse, not everything will go well (Bayverse COUGH) but its a different take. And there is a reason some ppl prefer these things that are not aligned with the norm. because its different.

Tdlr

Yes Starscream can be evil, and that's ok. But wanting some change ina a franchise where these characters have seen so many changes in design, character, personality and backstroy. It is also vaild to want to see Starscream take into those changes and commit to them. He doesn't have to be a super ubber sweetheart, but it be nice for him to be a lil better and be able to come around like other cons do.

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city-tickles · 8 months ago

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Lois’ tickle adventure with Superman!

Source: https://www.deviantart.com/kandenrem/art/Lois-ticklish-massage-2-2-1048915103

#tickling #ticklish #foot tickling #massage tickling #m/f tickling #dc tickling #tickle art friday #tickle art

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paladin-of-nerd-fandom65 · 5 months ago

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This Is Home

Welp since todays my birthday and I still am trying to work on an action pack fic featuring Dick and Bruce, I thought today might be my chance to showcase what I consider quality wise probably my worst fic I ever made; a blithering and shameful amount of family and adoptive family fluff and tooth rotting sugary sweetness that’ll make unicorns drool. I actually debated for years putting this one out in public because it’s not only fluffy as hell but it rather super weird so I best put up content warnings anyways for your sakes.

Thanks a lot to my buddy @confusedhummingbird for giving me the encouragement to put this one up and giving me the chance to edit it for making it less weird as heck

Constructive Criticisms are welcome and then some and I thank you for your considerations

Dedicated to my other mutuals @pin-crusher2000 @celaenaeiln @spider-jaysart @camo-wolf @lightdusk96 @moonundernostalgia @starlightbelle @adalineozie @wisegirlandseaweedbrainforever

Warnings: SFW Tickling, Family Fluff, Quasi Family Bonding

The moon shined brightly on the simple, brown painted trailer with few windows on it. It was a bright, cool and calm night all around. A few mud puddles from today’s earlier rain showers dotted some parts of grassy fields the tents and other temporary buildings are set on. The ambiance of owls hooting, hearty laughs from the roustabouts and even the chuckles from a variety of younger talents across the grounds are a true delight to hear for any visitor of this one area, let alone those who work and live their lives here. Cracking open the trailer door slowly, a woman with dark crimson follicles tied into a ponytail that reaches to her shoulders, clad in a simple black cotton t shirt with and gray sweatpants, takes one simple step out of the trailer doorway, closes her bright ocean blue eyes and inhales a nice whiff of that air through her nose. That old smell, whether from the decent sized cages of the animals or the burning embers of lighted juggling sticks, reaches in, bringing a satisfactory feeling. This is her home; this is her life; this is what Mary Elizabeth Lloyd-Grayson thought for what a nice evening looks like. Lo and behold, it truly was.

For about a good 20 something years by now, ever since an integrating of her family’s own carnival act with this place, Haly’s Circus always remains the one traveling show Mary finds herself being reminded that she’s a part of. She cannot be any more happier; ever since her childhood of practicing on the ropes and bars of the flying trapeze alongside her own mother and their relatives, Mary always dreamed of being part of the show, no matter her act’s place on the runtime, whether opening act or the grand finale. Here she was now; her family act being the grand finale thanks a combination of their truly amazing acrobatic talent, charisma and the fact the patriarch, her husband John, acts as second in command for this circus. Now while some might claim draconian bull on that last bit, it takes a brief history lesson in knowing the Graysons ever since their far back roots in the mid 1800s always played a role in making this circus operate and continue to entertain hundreds of thousands globally. John is simply the latest of them to inherit the legacy and the responsibilities placed on him. Or rather, the latest grown member of the Grayson bloodline to do so since through her love for him and their marital bond, there is one other Grayson.

“Hey! You get back here, Calvin!” speaking of whom.

Mary notes of the two bundles chasing each other right in front of the trailer door and can’t help but laugh sweetly. One young lad sporting a black mop of hair with her bright blue eyes, clad in a red tunic covering a green scaly leotard and on his feet green pixie boots, was her son Richard, or Dick for short. The eight year old was now in hot pursuit of a ten year old lad with sporting light brown hair with similarly brown eyes, clad in turn in a white t shirt with grey sweat pants and simple sandals on his feet. Both boys have a mischievous grin on their faces as they dart past Mary and make their way carefully scaling up the trailer’s walls up to the rooftops, no doubt their game of tag escalating once more.

As Calvin lightly tags Dick on their rooftop of the trailer and the two safely descend back to the ground before resuming the chase, Mary can’t help but sigh surprisingly sadly for the kid her son was hanging out with at this moment. Poor, poor Calvin; about two years ago, during their latest stop at Haly’s Circus’ home city of Gotham, the little guy approached their trailer door looking in more ways than one, pretty miserable. Not too long ago, the man who was his father locked the kid into a dog kennel for whatever bull reason. From what Calvin told them that man simply walked away and never came back, leaving the boy simply to live out the rest of his days in the cage with no chance for escape. Except beyond expectation and with some good luck, Calvin did escape. Noticing a small chink in the chain holding the kennel door in place, Calvin used a decent sized rock into pounding away that chink in a calm state before finally the chain collapsed. The kennel door swung open, allowing the then eight year old Calvin to make a run for it. The kid ran in the cold and desolate rain storm that poured over Gotham that night, far away from that damn cage until at one point, his legs can’t run anymore.

It was there Calvin came across the Flying Graysons’ trailer in the adjacent Gotham Memorial Park, as part of the circus preparing for their performances the upcoming weekend. Upon noticing the windows of the trailer with the lights on, indicating someone inside, Calvin at first was tempted to knock on their front door before realizing that maybe they won’t take him since he is for intents and purposes a complete stranger. So, he just lied next to the steps of the trailer door until the rain clears up. Or at least he was until suddenly the door opens, a six year old Dick Grayson peering his head outside the door and seeing the shivering, bloodied fisted and soaked Calvin Rose right in front of him. Now cracking the door slightly more open upon realizing who it was, Dick calls for his parents in a thick language Calvin doesn’t understand. Next thing he knows, the two parents almost immediately have Calvin walk in, Mary draping a thick warm blanket over his shoulders, John lightly telling him to sit at the nearby couch and Dick heating up a bowl of his mother’s chicken soup she made earlier just for him.

Ever since that night, Calvin became a very welcome addition to the greater family. Not only does he possess an amazing ability to escape from any trap and restraint on par with the great Harry Houdini, Dick had found a friend next to his age he can go to, someone who understands his own plights and words they way no grown-ups can. In a way, Dick had gotten a pseudo older brother that day. While Calvin’s escape act and the Flying Graysons’ trapeze have their own distinct places on the show time, those two are nearly inseparable.

A squeal belonging to Dick snapped Mary out of her thoughts. Looking to her right, she can see the two kids tussling with each other in the nearby mud puddle. She chuckles heartily as Calvin and Dick take turns pinning each other playfully, poking at each other’s ribcages and bellies and lightly slapping some mud on their faces. As the old saying goes, ‘boys will be boys’. Though, looking at her watch and taking of the time, it was indeed getting a bit late for the boys being boys. Wasting no time, Mary heads for her son’s bedroom, opening the dresser next to his bed, fetching out a clean black t shirt with grey sweat pants not unlike hers and his indoor sandals. Mary gets back to the door just as the two kids lay on their backs on the grassy field, panting heavily with smiles on their faces, covered head to toe in mud and just looking at each other before doing a fist bump. Taking it as her cue, Mary lightly knocks on the steel door of the trailer, drawing their attention.

“Alright you two, you should probably get to the showers. It’s almost 8 pm right now”

While Calvin might not speak lovari Romanes chib like Mrs. Grayson and Dickie can, he does understand it to get what they say.

“Really?” he asks.

“Uh huh”, Dick nods, “You better go first and…”

Mary lightly chuckles and presents the fresh clothes on her hand, “Actually Little Robin, while you two were having your brawl, I got these for you. No son of mine would wait for his chance to rinse off before his buddy does”

While Calvin was having a good laugh at the apparent blushing on Dick’s face, the latter almost shrugs it off and makes sure his hands are clean of mud before grabbing the clothes from his mother and makes his ways to the shower trailer. As Dick makes his way, Calvin gives a quick thumb up to Mary as he heads back to his own trailer to grab his own clean laundry. Or rather, right before he does so, he slows down his walking speed and has a pondering look on his face. Mary takes immediate note of it and walks over to him. The grass lightly brushes her bare feet as she reaches her right hand on Calvin’s right shoulder.

“Is there something on your mind, sweetie?” she asks with a tad bit of concern on her part. Being more or less a mother for him, of course she would.

Calvin brushes the toe of his sandal on the grass before having his brown eyes look up to Mrs. Grayson’s blue ones. “It’s nothing Mrs. Grayson, really just some thought about something but nah; don’t wanna bug you about it”

“Did you think about spending tonight with us, a sleepover?” Calvin’s eyes slightly widen a bit upon realizing Mrs. Grayson knew exactly what he was thinking. But before he can start trying to brush it off, Mary just gives him a warm smile and starts lightly ruffling his hair instead.

“Well,” Calvin asks before once more having a sincere look on his face as stares up to Mary, honestly expecting the worst, “can I?”

Mary almost wastes no time in giving an answer. “John’s out to town with Mr. Haly for tonight and we have a day off from practice tomorrow. So pretty much….Yeah, you can”

Calvin leapt into the air in joy with a fist in the air and was about to hug Mary before realizing how mud covered he was, instead simply rubbing the back of his head with slightly embarrassment. “Just make sure you get your laundry ready for your turn in the showers after Dick rinses up and try not to tell him if you run into him. How about we keep it a surprise?” Mary whispers the last part to him with a wink of her eye. Apparently, she has a bit of mischievous side too. With his own eye wink and a thumb up, Calvin darts back to his trailer. Mary walks back to the door, wiping her bare soles on the front carpet before steeping back in.

About half an hour or so later, Dick entered the trailer door, clad in his clean clothes and his jet black hair moistened though not nearly as much before Dick dried most of it with his towel the showers had. Mary notices however, of Dick preparing to just simply walk in before she gestures to him a certain something. Pointing to her soles, Dick gets that his mother says to wipe the soles of his sandals before walking in or take them off since while he avoided the mud puddles on his way back, the grass wasn’t going to do favors for this family trailer’s carpet. Rather than what he usually does in which actually involves wiping said sandals, Dick just lets them slide off his otherwise bare feet before stepping into the trailer. Dick makes then his way to the kitchen, climbing up the countertop right underneath the cupboards where the plastic glasses are then upon grabbing one, back flipping off said countertop and opening up the fridge door behind him for the jug full of simple water. As her son pours some of the clear liquid into his cup, no doubt for a drink before and/or after getting some sleep, Mary suddenly picks up on a few knocks on their trailer door. The pattern of said knocks is familiar; she knows who’s waiting at the front. Her surprise had arrived.

“Dickie, can you please get the door? I think there’s someone waiting for us”

With a quick salute, Dick raced back to the front door, proceeding to lightly open it, being on his guard while showing a friendly face just in case. Mary simply has a soft smirk in her face without even looking behind her to the scene playing out as Dick lets out an excited gasp for their visitor. There was Calvin, his hair similarly wet and now clad in a clean set of fleece pajamas with sandals on his feet, having a small backpack with his night stuff on his right shoulder and smiling equally as excitedly due to the look on Dick’s face. As the young Rose takes off his sandals out of courtesy before stepping inside, the little Grayson was able to piece together that Calvin will be crashing in with them for the night; looking back to his mother and getting a silent yet all too happy nod from her only confirms such. Dick also remembers it was a day off from practice for tomorrow and a weekend on top of that meaning that Calvin and he have the night to themselves.

Over the next hour, Mary can hear all sorts of chatter and noise coming from Dick’s bedroom, most of them was the two playing on Dick’s game system trying to either outdo one another if playing against each other or give each other aid and instruction to help each other if paired as a team. In the middle of their fingers slamming the controller buttons or hoping on and off Dick’s bed on a moment of excitement, the two engage in small talk on a variety of things. Whether it is the how the elephants can use some free roam every once in a while in spite of what kind of trouble they can get into should said elephants stampede on accident, which of these ‘superheroes’ is better, being either this ‘Woman of Wonder’ that apparently travels the world or Metropolis’ ‘Superman’. Both conclude though one thing: there’s no way this ‘Batman’ in Gotham can be real. Maybe he’s just a bedtime story to get the kids over there to behave like the Court of Owls or something. At one point, Calvin and Dick thought that maybe they can try combing their respective acts into one. Like say, Calvin is in a straight jacket suspended about 30 to 40 ft in the air while Dick stands by at a nearby platform with a trapeze bar in hand. From there, once Calvin of course frees himself from the straight jacket within a few minutes, Dick swings over to him, does the triple or even the quadruple flip and right as Calvin slips out and begins to drop from the height. When Calvin starts dropping by a single inch, He reaches out with his arms for Dick to catch him and swing them both back to safety. ‘The Great Swinging Escape’ they call it as Dick and Calvin laugh it off. Mary chuckles to herself when hearing that from her own room next door, actually finding herself intrigued and maybe with some heavy practice and a safety net for even their actual performance that can work. Of course, all parties involved will need a good convincing to Mr. Haly for that to happen.

By the time, an hour goes by; Mary can clearly hear her son and his friend apparently lacking any tiredness on their part. While they have the night to themselves, the two will have to start lying down for the night at some point. Those two are just full of such energy and stamina, only something than can tire them out can do the job. At least though, their energy finds itself expended on either their chatter with each other or Dick’s videogame.

Wait a minute….game, Mary thought to herself. She starts piecing something in her mind and thinking back to something. In particular, her childhood is what she thinks about…..hey yeah. She remembers that during her days as a Soaring Lloyd the way her own mother would tire her out. Her son’s maternal grandmother will play one type of game nearly every night up till her teenage years. It was a game of endurance and stamina. All needed were their family blankets, bits of string, a feather or two, their own hands, and a jar to place their bets, whether being money tips from their shows or necklace beads. One crux of this game though would mean someone who knows how to wrap blankets around a person that’s mostly inescapable. It cannot commence fully if the participant moves out of the way. Mary though of how her own mother trains the way she wraps her daughter in those blankets neatly and tightly enough to an extent Mary cannot simply run away should her endurance in this game fails but always felt as if she can just bail out if she wriggles enough for the blankets to loosen. To ensure the willing participant cannot escape one the flimsiest of movement and fully use their endurance, Mary will need someone who knows a thing or not about inescapable. What better choice than the Youngest Escape Artist in the World who just right now beaten Dick on their round on that videogame.

Mary calls out to the two after she can hear Dick’s game system turning off. “Alright you two, I think it be a smart idea to brush your teeth if I were you. You don’t wanna sleep with germs in your mouth tonight.”

“Aw, come on”, she can hear Calvin groan; “we really have to do it now? How about another hour? ”

“Well Rose, I didn’t say go to bed right away afterwards now did I?” Mary responds cheekily.

Calvin opened to reply only to realize on what he heard before she clarified herself. “Yeah, my bad Mrs. Grayson”, he says sheepishly and a soft chuckle.

Letting a chuckle of own in kind, Mary then calls to her son while in her room, looking through her necklace making kit for strong enough bits of string to use. “Richard, you go in first while your friend gets his toothbrush okay?”

“Sure thing, Momma” Dick replies happily before quickly turning to his friend, “I won’t take too long okay Cal?”

“Take your time, Dickie” Calvin says, “I can wait. I saw enough bad teeth around here that make my own teeth get cavities. Don’t wanna see you get it too” he remarks, making Dick laugh as the latter heads toward the trailer’s bathroom.

While Calvin looks through his travel backpack for that toothbrush, he notices Mary at the bedroom. Tellingly, she sports a bit of a smirk on her face. She recent has an idea, an idea for some mischief, and Calvin mostly has a role in it. At first, he sports a curious look on his face, thinking he’ll be the target for something. That immediately exits out of his thoughts as Mary approaches him regularly; no, what she has in mind is something completely different.

“Calvin, if you don’t mind at all, I need you help in something. It’s a little idea I have in mind for Dick but I’m sure you both are going to like this” Mary whispers excitedly to him, low enough in which Dick can’t hear them.

Calvin, now knowing that Dick will be the target instead of him, raises an eyebrow raised and a small smirk grows on his lips as well. “So, you do you have in mind Mrs. Grayson?”

“Well…” Mary says before almost muting her words via very softly stating them in his ear. As she explains her secret plan to Calvin in full detail, that smirk on his face grows into a more mischievous grin. Oh yeah, now that sounds like something he can do. As Calvin, nods his head, indicating a yes, Mary hands Calvin the piece of string she brought with her from her necklace set and begins loosening some of Dick’s blankets and bed sheets.

Around five minutes later, Dick finally steps out of the bathroom after rinsing off his teeth and makes his way back to bedroom. Along the way though, he can hears some whispered chatter between Calvin and his mother coming from there. He wonders what those two are up to since among the whispers, he can hear some light hearted laughter, meaning it was a plan alright. Most likely, it has him in the center of it. He might be only 8, but Dick’s not dumb. With a smirk on his face, he can try surprising his mother and his friend before they can do whatever they wish with him. Now stepping on his tip toes, Dick sneakily makes his way to the door to his room completely out of sight from his mother and Calvin, quietly standing next to the door out of sight. Should either his mother or Calvin start making their way out to check on him, he can unleash an ambush via a playful tackle and using his fingertips on their ticklish spots to pin them. As he spots Calvin making his way to the door after hearing his mother tell the former to check if he was doing okay, Dick snickers lightly, sticks to the shadows….

“Nice Try, Dickie!” happily exclaims Calvin while playfully grabbing Dick in a bear hug, causing the latter to squeal laughing, out of the shadows and onto his bedroom floor, trying to pin him. Of course having play wrestle him earlier tonight, Dick picks up on his friend’s pattern on how he pins him via pokes on his sensitive ribs. Not this time though as Dick cleverly slides out of Calvin’s reach and targets his own fingers on Calvin’s soles. Upon the first poke of that fingertip on his soft skin on his left foot’s arch, immediately Calvin yelps into a bubbling laugh of his own and topples face first onto the floor. Seizing the chance, Dick sits on his knees upon Calvin’s pinned legs, wraps his left arm around Calvin’s ankles, bringing these feet up to him and using his free hand, starts scribbling his fingers all across whatever spots on Calvin’s bare feet he can find.

While pinned and finding himself outmaneuvered by his younger counterpart, Calvin barely focuses on such a turn of events since those laughs are erupting out of his mouth like there’s no tomorrow. For good reason though, since out of all the places on his body he was sensitive, it was his bare feet. Now his friend goes all out with the velvet like skin on his soles, the pads of his ten toes and perhaps worst of all, the stems of said toes in which just tiny poke on them sets off a certifiable explosion of nerves being tickled all across Calvin’s body. Thankfully, before Dick’s free hand can make it to those stems on his toes, Mary cheekily tells her son to stop.

“Now, now Little Robin, let’s save tickling Calvin for a little later. We can’t have him pass out right now.”

Dick looks back to his mother with wide grin on his face before loosening his grip on Calvin’s ankles, letting his feet drop to the ground and giving the older boy a chance to breathe. It’s then though that Dick also notices his mother sitting on his own bed, more or less confirming what he had been hearing on his way back from the bathroom.

“So”, Dicks asks the two as they both smile mischievously picking up on the fact he’s onto them, “what do you to have in mind for right now?”

As Calvin grabs his toothbrush and makes his way to the bathroom for his own teeth brushing, Mary pats her hands on Dick’s bed, saving a seat for him. “Oh, nothing too big at all son; I just noticed both Calvin and you seem like you two can stay up all night if you want too, right?”

Dick nodded his head happily, “Yeah, Cal and I can stay up till the sun goes up Mom. There isn’t anything make us tired. No sir-ee.” That little boast more or less had Dick firmly in exactly where Mary wants him, easy prey for her little game. It was time to let the cat slip out of the bag for this one.

“Well, Little Robin, when I was your age, I thought the same thing on nights like this. So you would like to know what my mom did to me whenever I said I can stay up till to the sun came up?” she asks with a cheeky grin in her face.

“Nope, what was it?” Dick asks now genuinely curious.

Now for the bombshell, “Oh, Your grandma and I would bet something in a jar then she’ll have me wrapped up very tightly in the blankets.”

Dick asks, figuring out where this might be going, “Does the bet say something about how long you can last without getting too tired?”

Mary nods happily, as she fills in the blanks, “More or less, how long can you handle like say, your feet getting a good tickling until you either fall asleep or say you quit.”

Dick’s eyes widen with excitement upon hearing the answer but before he can act, Mary quickly slips her hand onto the soles of Dick’s right foot and begins lightly scratching it, ‘Like this!”

Almost immediately, a squealing laughter bubbles out of Dick’s mouth and he falls backward onto his bed, kicking his legs frantically to get his mother’s fingertips off his sensitive skin on that area. Quickly calming down and in-taking some air, Dick smiles happily towards his mother, now knowing the full picture of what Calvin and she have in mind. With that in mind, sure, he’s sensitive, the fact is Dick’s a Grayson through and through, he can handle soaring through the air on some ropes without a safety net below, and he can handle this for sure.

“So, want to give a try Little Robin?” Mary asks sweetly while cracking her fingers. “It’ll be perfectly fine with me if you don’t want…”

Rather than wait for her answer, Dick simply got underneath the blankets, place his head on the pillow on one end of the bed and stuck his two soft velvet soled bare feet out of the other end of the blankets where his mother was.

“Now just wait a minute Dickie” Mary says while playfully grabbing one of her son’s big toes lightly causing the latter to giggle lightly in turn, “I’d say we spice this up a bit by making it a game of who can last longer.”

Within the next minute, Calvin had stepped back into the bedroom out of his teeth brushing, noting almost immediately of Dick already in position. Now with his own smirk upon realizing what this means, he cracks his fingers and he too trudges unto the bed. Rather than go underneath the blankets, Calvin begins grabbing the ends of the bundle Dick is within and begins wrapping them up in a zigzag like pattern across the acrobat’s swaddled torso, arms and legs. Finally, after nearly two minutes of careful wrapping, he finishes off Dick’s fluffy restraints with a simply tucking in of a corner in his right side.

“Alright, Dick” Calvin says with his arms crossed and proud of his work, “try getting out of that.”

Sure enough, as Dick attempts doing so via wriggling around and trying to slide the blankets off him, nothing moved by a single inch. Indeed, Calvin’s restraining technique had worked, the little Grayson finds himself more or less completely trapped. All that Dick move at all were his head against his pillow and the toes of his two feet in which even then can only fan out or clench tightly, the latter of which he was doing now in anticipation for both his mother and his friend’s next move.

While Mary grabs a small empty nearby jar and placing it on top of Dick’s dresser, Calvin gets a small notepad and a pen to write down their bets. They are made rather quickly since let’s face it; they just want to get started already. Dick bets he can last for 1 hour of nonstop scribbling and poking on his feet, saying that should he lose, he owes his mother three straight nights in a row of doing the dishes after dinner and getting Calvin any ice cream next time they see a place to get some. Then the other shoe drops. “You have anything in mind you want to bet on for yourself, Calvin dear?” Mary asks. Cal’s face brightens up almost instantly since he knows he can participate as well. It was a chance he wasn’t going to back down on. Using a second small note paper, he write a bet of his own: Whereas Dick supposedly can last 1 hour, Calvin bets he can last 2 hours, should he lose, he owes the Graysons an entire dinner from a nearby take out joint one day and be the one getting ice cream for Dick instead.

Mary takes the two bets written in note paper, placing them that jar while Calvin hops onto the bed right next to Dick, getting his own set of blankets he brought with him to wrap himself in, and likewise poking his head out one end and his bare feet on the other. Mary tucks Calvin’s blankets around him tightly yet comfortably thanks to Calvin instructing her on the same technique he used to restrain Dick beforehand. Sure enough, like Dick, Calvin finds himself only capable of moving his head on his pillow and his ten toes, the latter only able to fan out or clench.

All preparations done, Mary finds herself staring at quite a sight indeed: before her blue eyes was what seems being a massive of well woven cotton and fabric sheets with two tousled heads poking out of one end and four perfectly formed feet out of the other. One pair of those feet was only a mere centimeter bigger than the other, with a tiny bit of callus on the balls and heels but otherwise was perfectly normal with their smooth curving arches and soft texture everywhere else for a growing lad like Calvin Rose. For the other pair, while slightly if at all smaller, the soles, arches and stems of the toes uniquely had a lighter skin tone in comparison to the tops, and with slightly longer toes in comparison to Calvin’s in which while not stubby, they had less space to poke those stems of said toes. Otherwise, Dick’s own feet, usually well maintained via applying skin lotion on them every other few nights before bed, had the same features as Calvin’s had. Overall, the two pairs of feet poking out of the mass of blankets before her made them all the enticing Mary’s mind to give in to them a nice motherly rub and then some. Frankly, with the addition of all twenty toes wriggling, fanning out and clenched in anticipation, really it was just those four feet saying ‘hey, give us your best shot, we dare you’ right to her. So, with her two hands descending on those four lovely feet, her left set upon Calvin’s and her right on Dick’s, Mary was indeed giving it her best.

She starts slow and methodical; running her index fingertips on the smooth soles of Calvin’s left foot and Dick’s right foot. The toes on each respective one clenched down followed by fanning outward and from there repeat slowly. Already, soft and bubbling giggles erupt from both boys, Calvin even clenching his mouth shut to prevent those precious giggles from escaping completely. Dick fared slightly worse with an ability in holding back the giggles already bubbling out of his mouth. Of course, though, Mary was just merely warming up. Next thing, the speed and number of her fingertips rubbing against the soles of all four feet grow per minute, leaving both Calvin and Dick now laughing slightly louder and far less ability to control it.

There was practically no spot on those soles, heels, or the balls of their feet left untouched by Mary’s darting fingertips. No matter how clenched or fanned out those four feet were, she continues onward. By now, the laughing from the two boys was at a consistent yet loud enough level that said laughter starts blending in a synchronized manner. From the looks of it to further this whole thing, neither showed any sign of fatigue so far. Mary does have to give Calvin and her son credit, about twenty minutes in, they have no quit in them. So now, it was time to escalate things a tad bit.

“Calvin, dear”, the mother asks while calming the frequency of her fingertips, softening a bit of the immense tickling and allowing the two to breathe a bit while still laughing their heads off, “do still have that string from earlier?”

“On…the…drawer….behind you…” Calvin was barely able to say in between his laughing, bopping his head to his right slightly to point Mrs. Grayson in that direction. Sure enough, there was the necklace just sitting on the corner of the piece of wooden furniture, perfectly intact. Originally, the string would find use for one person’s pair of bare feet on this occasion but now that they’re two, Mary decides to very quickly grab another one from her necklace in her room, giving the boys a chance to catch their breath. Not easy considering that scratching from Mary’s fingertips left phantom tickles they can still feel, causing them to still giggle intensely.

Calvin turns his head slightly to Dick’s direction, breathing out some giggles while having a slight smirk on his face. “Ready….to quit….Dickie?”

“…Nope…Cal….I…can still…last longer”, Dick responds with a small smirk of his own while also breathing through giggles

“I don’t know, Little Robin”, Mary hums happily as she re-enters the bedroom with two strings in her hands; “this next part will test you alright.”

Gently taking the two big toes of her son’s feet in her fingers, Mary carefully takes one of the string pieces and proceeds to wrap it around the toes. After as much loops as it can do, Mary toes the string in a nifty little knot. Now suddenly, Dick can barely clench his toes at all, leaving the stems completely vulnerable and practically defenseless. In a quick few seconds, Calvin too has a string piece wrapped and tied around his two big toes so now he too can barely clench his toes at all and now his stems are defenseless.

Sure enough, Mary cracks his fingers and presses a loving kiss on each of the boys’ temples before having a mischievous grin on her face as she goes face to face with four bare feet sticking out of the tightly wrapped blankets. Enter Mary’s fingertips as they begin lightly scratching within the toe stems of Dick and Calvin. To say the laughter came back with a vengeance, a tad bit louder than before and most sincerely full of energy would be a gigantic understatement.

Once more as before, no spot of those twenty toe stems and the toes themselves are untouched by Mary’s loving scratches and pokes. Both of the boys’ heads are now tossing and turning all over their soft pillows with little tears forming in their eyes. No matter hard the two Circus youths try holding it in by closing their mouths shut, their laughter still escaped. They are determined however; there is no way either of them will have to pay for the other one’s ice cream just because they lost a tickling game nor do all those dishes nor stand in line at next Red Robin restaurant they come across. As such, in spite of the utter expending of their energy and possibly their sanity, Calvin and Dick still do not quit.

About the forty-five minute mark of this whole thing, Mary still cannot help but admire the sheer amount of willpower the two boys have in the face of their bare feet receiving the treatment they get. So, once more, it was time to escalate things to basic all out war. The mischievous grin on her face going slightly bigger since now comes in that feather. Both Calvin and Dick are able to peeking through their otherwise shut eyes and suddenly their laughter changed it note slightly.

“Oh….no…” Calvin laughed out in somewhat dread.

“Oh yes” Mary proudly stated as the feather descends upon Dick’s right foot and Calvin’s left foot at the same time. Very lightly, the feather begins rubbing on the two pale feet. Already, the laughing is beginning to build up in volume. Sure enough, Mary strokes the feather slightly faster and accordingly, the laughter from the two reaches another decibel. From there, about fifty minutes in, the feather now strikes at random on both pairs of bare feet. If the feather stroke on the ball of Dick’s left foot, his laugh rises. If it strikes, Calvin right heel, his does. The tips of their toes prove being no exception since one glide across all twenty toes was enough to crank the laughter’s volume up a tad bit. As hard they try, neither Dick nor Calvin can clench their stout toes completely thanks to the strings tying their big ones. This happens while Mary’s fingertips dart around on spots the feather isn’t hitting.

Now at one hour and fifteen minutes, the nuclear option finally comes in, the feather now placed in the toe stems of both boys’ exposed feet. A simple stroke going rightward and back, rightward and back, up and down the stems, circling around the pads of the toes before coming back to the stems, rightward and…

“OK! OK!” screeches Calvin between his exhausted laughter, “I QUIT! I QUIT!”

Dick yelps happily in spite of his immobility in joy.

“I won! I actually won!” He yells, exhaustively yet ecstatically in his native tongue.

Mary has bubbling laughter of her own as she finally puts away the feather and loosens the strings on the boys’ big toes, finally giving their feet to move around more freely again. She leans over the winner’s tousled head and plants a few victory kisses on him, much to Dick’s slight embarrassment and Calvin’s light snickering.

Other than all that, both boys are just flat out exhausted. The scribbling, poking and feather stroking was apparently too much for their stamina to bear as Dick and Calvin both pant heavily and have small tears leak from their eyes onto the soft pillows they lie on. In between their panting, were still giggles since once more phantom tickles persist on their bare feet. Nonetheless those lingering nerves of theirs were fading out fast once they have a chance to be left be, yet so was the ability for the boys’ to stay awake as Mary can tell as she puts away the stings and jar containing their bets. Their panting had softened to deep and relaxed breathing as her ears can attest, just like how she felt once her mother stopped.

Remembering Calvin’s instructions on the blankets from earlier, Mary finds the one flap on both Dick and Calvin’s restraining bundles and gently tugs away, undoing all the tightening in one swift motion. Now the blankets are simply draped over each of the two, allowing their arms and legs underneath both the move freely. Not that they can though, given that one look on their faces, the two circus lads are starting to drift into deep and relaxing sleep.

“Looks…like (yawn)…I…owe…you…” With those words, Calvin was the first for sleep to claim as his eyes close, his breathing evens and his head tilts to the side with a peaceful smile on his face.

One quick kiss on Calvin’s temple and Mary pulls the folded part of his blanket to the bridge of his nose, doing so making the now asleep Calvin moan happily before shifting so that the blanket covers his entire face. Now, he was out cold. It looks like Dick was next.

Even though his eyes flutter to a slow close, Dick had a slight giggle as his mother drapes the blanket up and ruffles his black hair.

“I love you, Momma” Dick yawns dreamily “Good Night”

With a happy and proud sniffle upon hearing those words, Mary leans to give Dick one more kiss on the temple. “Good Night My Little Robin. Sweet Dreams”

Thusly, Dick eyes close completely and finally he falls into a deep and happy sleep as Mary covers his face with the blanket like Calvin has.

About five seconds later, then comes the soft snoring. Yep, both were completely dead asleep. Her game had worked.

Mary finally stands to get a good look at the two sleeping boys, completely covered by their respective blankets, the exceptions being only their crowns of their hair and most tellingly their bare feet on the other end. Normally, any other mother at this point would leave well enough alone, head to their own bed and close for the night. Mary certainly would do just that given her own tiredness kicking in. However, she always has a way to leave her mark on those she tickles. So there was just one tiny thing left to do.

She quietly and excitedly makes her way to her bedroom’s nightstand and after a good few seconds, finds what she was looking for. In her hands were a black marker pen and two cardboard tags with strings attached. Long story incredibly short, while her mother’s side of the family was filled with acrobats and circus folks, on her father’s side, their jobs were a tad bit…morbid. Medical examiners, surgeons, morticians, EMTs, funeral directors or in the case of Dick’s maternal grandfather and perhaps most frightening of all��.a dentist; these were Mary’s cousins, aunts and uncles on that side of the family tree and while ultimately deviating from that career, she develops a sense of humor heavily inspired by it. So now both her more-or-less nephew Calvin and her son Dick were ‘dead asleep’ as evidenced by their light snores coming from underneath the blankets covering them, right? Well, as she writes down their ‘details’ on those two tags with strings, why not have them play the first part?

Mary finishes Calvin’s tag first and such with its attached string; she lightly as to not accidentally tickle him awake places it on the big toe of Calvin’s right foot. As to the question of where exactly Mary got such things, it was during a tour in London, during a day off, John and her out of morbid curiosity visited the nearby mortuary, and got the tags as souvenirs in the gift shop. It reads as such:

ATTACH TO TOE

NAME: Rose, Calvin

AGE: 10

GENDER: Male

ETHNICITY: White

WEIGHT: 45 lbs

HEIGHT: 4’ 11’’

FOOT SIZE: 5

HAIR: Brown

EYES: Brown

DATE OF BIRTH: 9/XX/90

PLACE OF DEATH: Bedroom DATE OF DEATH: N/A

CAUSE OF DEATH: Tickling Induced Sleepiness

MEDICAL EXAMINER: Mary Elizabeth Lloyd Grayson

FUNERAL DIRECTOR: John Fredrick Grayson

COMMENTS: Do Not Disturb.

Calvin himself only let out a tiny giggle as the tag brushed very lightly on the sole of his bare foot but otherwise remained in deep sleep.

Sure enough, with that done, Dick too had a written on cardboard tag attached on his right foot’s big toe. While gently settling the string on the toe, Mary very lightly gave a tiny, playful brush to Dick’s sole, causing the acrobat to giggle lightly and very briefly clench his toes before they once more are still as if nothing happened. On his tag, it reads.

ATTACH TO TOE

NAME: Grayson, Richard John

AGE: 8

GENDER: Male

ETHNICITY: Romani

WEIGHT: 35 lbs

HEIGHT: 4’ 5’’

FOOT SIZE: 4.5

HAIR: Black

EYES: Blue

DATE OF BIRTH: 3/21/92

PLACE OF DEATH: Bedroom DATE OF DEATH: N/A

CAUSE OF DEATH: Exhaustion induced Slumber

MEDICAL EXAMINER: Mary Elizabeth Lloyd Grayson

FUNERAL DIRECTOR: John Fredrick Grayson

COMMENTS: Sleep Well, Little Robin. Momma Loves You.

Her work done, Mary caps the pen close and finally makes her way to her bed. Catching a last glimpse of the two sleeping boys with their bare feet poking out of the blankets, snoring away in their dreams and toe tags attached, she gently closes the door. The bright moonlight shines through the bedroom window on the two blanket covered boys while they sleep. This is their home, this is their life, and this is truly, what a nice evening looks like.

#dick grayson #calvin rose #mary grayson #sfw tickle fluff #sfw #family fluff #adoptive family #de facto family #haly circus #content warning #quasi family #mother and son #family bonding #nightwing #talon #dc comics

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devilfic · 8 months ago

Note

Prob, wayyyy too damn specific but I saw posts of Matt and I just rewatched The Batman (2022) and like I had this prompt of:

Reader is pushed away by Matt and decides to not fall with more vigilantes but runs in with Bruce and marries him? Maybe and it becomes some love triangle plot or idk

Idk what you could do with this, pls feel free to ignore it or modify. It’s just a weird ass crossovers of my two husbands.

at first I meant to humor you a bit with my thoughts on bruce and matt as very similar lovers but then it just turned into a throuple. walk with me:

it’s funny because matt and bruce have very similar self-destructive behaviors when it comes to relationships, but I think bruce is a bit more indulgent (whether he’d admit to that or not is another story entirely).

where matt is clearly insecure about if he can protect you—certainly he will fight until his last dying breath to do so but would rather you never be in danger to begin with—bruce is (and I'm especially thinking of an older, more experienced bruce), I think, unwilling to let you know that he’s just as insecure. mainly because failure cannot be an option. bruce also has much more at his disposal to protect you (cough cough money cough) and has backup plans for days. at this point in time, bruce would be more willing to let others in and have a healthier (?) way of maintaining relationships.

matt is, to the best of his ability, an ordinary man who strikes suddenly, sometimes recklessly, and thinks better within the throes of action. matt strikes me as someone who carries too many burdens to ever think a relationship with a civillian would work. he is a martyr like bruce, but I think where matt is in daredevil and where bruce is in my mind (years later, a little less cynical) are different enough to make them stand out.

that being said, I think matt would be hella suspicious of bruce because let’s be honest…. everything about him is a red flag LMAO. I can imagine matt playing mind games with bruce if they ever met, perhaps matt is representing a client who is suing wayne enterprises and oh, look, there’s you and bruce all cuddled up in the courtroom. matt listens for bruce’s heartbeat whenever he asks a particularly pointed question about his life but bruce has trained his heartbeat to be steady, his reactions natural. he gets one past matt.

and you think this man has some NERVE interrogating your new boyfriend when he’s the one who put you out. you almost let him have a piece of your mind but think better of it.

matt wonders if you like being bruce wayne’s. are you even able to still be you? the you that he truly knows?

needless to say, if they cross each other in cowls, matt will know it’s him instantly. I think it would sting matt to know that not only had you moved on to a man of much higher class, you’d also moved onto another nocturnal vigilante. one who, apparently, had no hangups about having you.

bruce also isn’t stupid. he’d done his research into the masked vigilante running around the neighboring borough of hell’s kitchen. it wasn’t apparent to him when he’d first met matt, but a little stalking research down the line and he’d put it together. they don’t reveal this to each other at first.

but later that night, bruce is holding you and wondering… is that your type? if it was by the simple hilarity of the universe that you ended up falling for him, right after leaving a man not too different from himself.

anon, I have a feeling that when you said love triangle, you really meant a love v as in bruce likes reader, matt likes reader, and reader likes both. but if I may talk my shit, I think these two might have a lot to like about each other. two vigilantes who operate by night and shadow, who have similar dedications to justice (matt’s being the idea of righteous and fair law, bruce’s being protecting the weak and innocent and rehabilitating or stopping the corrupt), two men leading double lives, two men as equally charming, and two men in love with you. bruce and matt find it hard not to see what you like in the other.

bruce befriends him. it’s kind of an accident the way he finds a kindred spirit in him, and at first it’s purely to keep an eye on this guy, perhaps to put together a contingency plan just in case. he starts sending nelson, murdock, and page cases in gotham that could use their legal advice, sending business partners and citizens alike to their door for referrals. matt isn’t sure what to do when they start getting a wave of new clients, all suspiciously right up their alley, but foggy and karen don’t mind the extra cash flow and matt struggles to find a way to not be okay with helping those in need.

matt returns the favor and starts training bruce on how to hone his other senses in combat. the two of them will spar for hours, only stopping if alfred were to come yank them apart or, god forbid, you come home early to find your boyfriend pinning your ex to the mat.

and you’re both horrified and fascinated to find that they get along really well. but you can’t just let matt back into your life after he’d all but slammed the door in your face. he’d given up on you. now he was weaseling his way back into your life with bruce—a happy life, might I add, although no less stressful—hanging around you like a dark shadow.

bruce isn’t sure how to feel about it either. he knows how much you loved matt, how much you still love matt, and he can tell matt is not over you no matter how much he waxes poetic about the greater good and why you two couldn’t really work out. bruce gets it, worries that maybe he should get it more and cut you loose too before something happens to you. it had always been their worry: that while they were off protecting the city, there’d be no one there to watch over you. and there was no one there to watch over you. once upon a time.

there is no organized discussion about it. bruce is less hung up about it than matt. it does feel odd, imagining him around you and it being… normal. inviting matt over for dinner with your permission, and sharing wine and heavy goodbyes as bruce pays a taxi to see him home safe. he considers the way you squirm at the table, trying to keep it friendly between you and matt but there is that ache in your chest that remembers this man differently. it feels disrespectful and rude to be friends with him now, having him around gotham. eventually bruce asks you as you wind down for the night, his rings clattering onto the dresser tray as you pull back the sheets, “you love him still.” well, he doesn’t ask.

you freeze, halfway into the sheets, unsure if you’d even heard him right, “I’m sorry?”

“matthew,” he casts a glance over his shoulder, “it didn’t really end between you. not on your end.”

“if you’re trying to accuse me of something-“

“I’m not. I can see it on you.” but bruce’s voice isn’t angry or mocking or blaming. it’s… oddly resolute. thoughtful, even. “I like him.”

“I… what are you saying, bruce?”

he crawls under the sheets, nonchalant, but he finds himself just a little (just a little) unsure. “I’m saying that… maybe the reason why he pushed you away isn’t a problem anymore,” he stares ahead, focused on the fireplace that burns low, “if you wanted him still. I wouldn’t mind it. I wouldn’t mind him.”

you almost can’t believe your ears. “and you like him.”

bruce takes a minute to shrug, as if he needed to roll it around in his mind one more time.

“do you… want us to be together? all of us?” you watch the reflection of the fire in his eyes, waiting with bated breath.

he turns his head to you, “if we can get the usher boy to agree.”

you have to have a long, long talk with matt. there’s tears and a little anger and a whole lot of uncertainty as you talk out your tumultuous parting but then, as matt’s guilt starts slipping in and he says he’ll stay out of gotham so that he doesn’t cause you more pain, you blurt it out. matt isn’t sure he’s heard you right. you have to repeat yourself, a bit more eloquently, “I said… do you want to be with me and bruce?”

he doesn’t immediately say yes. in fact, he takes a day or two to himself to think about it. he’s staunchly sure in the beginning that he will turn you down but the words do not form, the hesitance keeps him from calling. when he gets advice from foggy (who is twice as bewildered but all too excited by the prospect) about how to say he’s not interested, he writes it down and it just. doesn’t feel right. he finds himself rearranging the words in his mind to be softer, more… flexible. less “hard and fast no” and more “I just don’t know”. the more he thinks about it the less inclined he is to even SAY the word no. is it because it’d really, finally cut you out of his life? would he only be saying yes to have you again?

bruce would be there too, that’s the key thing. maybe it could start out as just him being with you and bruce being with you at the same time, but maybe that was too weird for him to think about. sharing you with someone else. he wouldn’t want to. but what would the alternative be?

he calls bruce to meet in hell’s kitchen where he feels safer. bruce is calm, not imposing in the least. he lets matt rant it all out and get his feelings in check. when he’s blown off all the steam, bruce just says, “if it comes down to it, there’ll be no hard feelings if it ends.”

“this is crazy.”

“you can say no.”

“yeah. I know.”

some time passes. bruce comes to stand beside matt sitting on the ledge of the rooftop, keeping his heavy gaze fixed on him. “they still love you.”

“I know.”

the two of them say nothing for a while. matt tries to focus on the city, as loud as it always is, but keeps zeroing in on the steady earnest thumping of the man’s heart right next to him. he is being honest with what remains unsaid, what you’d told matt days ago that he still struggled to believe. he tilts his head so, and bruce has known him long enough now to know that he’s thinking hard about what to say next, “I suppose you’ll have to take me on a date first. just so we’re all even.”

“is pinning you to the mat not courting enough for you?”

#usually in the dc trinity headcanons bruce is like the last one to agree to the throuple so him bringing up the throuple first tickles me #bruce wayne x reader #matt murdock x reader #bruce wayne x matt murdock #??? I guess???#mjwrites #mjanswers #fandom; marvel #fandom; dc

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