Dress
"Don't laugh!" Draco shouted through the door of their bedroom.
He rolled his eyes and turned the page of his quidditch magazine. "Draco, I never laugh at your new clothes," he called back. It was true, he didn't, Draco sometimes picked the loudest, most ostentatious patterns imaginable; sometimes he picked cloaks that changed color based on his mood; once, memorably, he'd even found a hat with enormous peacock feathers. He'd never laughed, because he understood that clothes were an outlet for Draco, a way of being who he felt like he was on the inside. "I promise," he added.
When the door didn't open after a few more moments of silence, Harry set down his magazine, "Draco?"
"Yes," the other man said through the door. "Yes, coming."
The door opened a crack but Draco didn't emerge, "Promise," he said. "Swear on our marriage and our nonexistent children that you won't laugh."
"Baby," he said, standing from the couch and moving toward the door. "I promise. I won't laugh."
"Sit down," Draco said, peaking around the corner, just his forehead and eyes visible. "Sit down and close your eyes. I can't do it if you're looking at me."
He frowned but did as Draco asked.
The door creaked as it opened the rest of the way, and the sound of Draco's bare feet padding across the floor made the pit of Harry's stomach warm. He could feel Draco's presence in front of him, knowing that his husband was standing there looking at him, weighing him.
"Babe," he said, holding his hands out and waiting for Draco's to fill them. His fingers clasped Harry's, shaking just a little. "Hey," he said softly, "I love you. All of you. I'm not going to laugh."
After a shaking exhale, Draco gave Harry's hands a squeeze and took a step back, "Open your eyes," he murmured.
Harry was not in any way prepared for the sight before him. Draco was wearing a simple green dress, a low v-neck with thin straps, it was fitted through the bust and cinched at the waist. The whole dress was layered with chiffon that gave it a soft, dreamy quality; the skirt was full and with the layers of chiffon, Harry knew it would flare out if he twirled. He swallowed, "Wow," he managed after a moment.
"It's a lot, I know-" Draco started, tucking a strand of hair back behind his ear, "and I-"
"You look fucking gorgeous," Harry interrupted. "Let me see the back?"
Slowly, Draco turned, showing Harry an equally deep v in the back with a crisscross of thin straps that helped to keep the top of the dress tight to his torso. All of the freckles he'd gotten in the sun on their vacation last month were a stark contrast to the pale of his skin.
"You look amazing," he said again as Draco turned to face him once more.
Draco ducked his head, cheeks flushed a lovely pink. Harry was about to ask him to do a real spin so he could admire the skirt when Draco blurted, "I don't think I'm always a boy."
He blinked but before he could say anything, Draco continued.
"And I don't think I'm a girl," he said uncertainly. "I just," he shrugged, helplessly, eyes welling up with tears, "I think there's something broken inside of me," he whispered.
"Oh," Harry said, standing and pulling him into his arms, "sweetheart, no." He kissed Draco's temple, "there's nothing wrong with you. It's alright," he added, mentally thanking Ginny for the lecture she'd given him three years ago about one of her nonbinary team mates. "Maybe you're just nonbinary. It's alright," he repeated, holding Draco's trembling body closer.
"You thought you married a man," Draco blurted as he clung to Harry's jumper, face hidden against his shoulder. "I don't-"
"Hey," he said softly, pulling back a bit so that he could meet Draco's eyes, "sweetheart," he murmured, heart aching with the thought that Draco might have been keeping this from him because he was afraid of how Harry might react. "I love you. It doesn't matter to me what you identify as, it won't change that I love you. I love the person you are," he said, "Everything else is just how you get to feel comfortable in your own skin. I want you to be happy."
"I don't know who I am," Draco whispered.
He nodded and pressed a kiss to Draco's forehead, "I'd like to be with you while you find out, if you'll let me?"
Draco swallowed, gaze flickering between Harry's eyes, "Are you sure?"
"Yes, love. I'm positive."
Slowly Draco nodded, "I'd like that."
He kissed Draco's cheek, "Can I admire you in your new dress a little more?"
With a shy little smile that Harry utterly adored, Draco nodded and stepped back, wiping his eyes.
"Well, give us a proper spin, then," Harry said.
Draco spun and the skirt flared, twirling around as Draco laughed, face open and radiant in a way that Harry wasn't sure he'd ever seen.
"I should take you out," Harry said, capturing him in his spinning and pulling Draco into his arms again before starting to dance around the living room. "We should go out dancing."
Draco shook his head, "what would people say?"
"That you're gorgeous," he said, "but respectfully because if they didn't say it respectfully, I'd punch them."
"Harry," Draco sighed, "the press-"
"What if we went to a muggle place?" he interrupted because he knew that Draco was right but he didn't want Draco to think there was anything that Harry was ashamed of about this. "Just until you feel more confident in who you are? What if we go out and experiment together? Give you a chance to feel comfortable in your skin before we let the world know?" He tucked a strand of hair behind Draco's ear, "I want to show you off," he added, knowing how Draco loved to be seen in his new things, "you deserve to be admired in this beautiful dress."
"Are you sure?" he asked. And in the question Harry heard a thousand other insecurities.
"I've never been more sure of anything than I am of you," he replied, holding Draco's gaze with his own. "You are the love of my life. No matter what. I love you and I just want you to love you as much as I do."
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I love the idea of the Wayne kids dropping extremely vague and disturbing comments during galas. Especially when in uncomfortable situations or if they're just bored. They pull out things from their nightlife too. Other times they just make shit up.
Socialite: Oh, dear, your cheeks look so sullen! Who sucked the life out of you?
Tim, dead serious: An old man with a goatee.
Socialite: Uh... what?
Dick: Once I broke my knee so badly that I swear I could see part of the bone sticking out.
Socialite: Good lord. How on earth did that happen?
Dick: Just clumsy gymnast things ^^
Socialite: The white streak is certainly a bold fashion choice.
Jason: I saw someone get decapitated once, so I could be doing worse in terms of what's on my head, yknow? At least I have one.
Socialite: What's your favourite colour, sweetie?
Damian: Red.
Socialite: Oh that's lovely!
Damian: Like the blood of my enemies.
Socialite: Oh.
Socialite: You must be new to these kind of events.
Duke: Uh, yeah, they're kind of scary. But I've had worse.
Socialite: Worse.
Duke: Well I've been left on top of a skyscraper before with no way down just to 'get over my fear of heights' so, yes.
Socialite: You don't talk very loud, do you? I can barely hear you.
Cass, with a straight face: If I spoke any louder every glass in the room would shatter.
Tim, behind her: I can vouch.
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Today my therapist introduced me to a concept surrounding disability that she called "hLep".
Which is when you - in this case, you are a disabled person - ask someone for help ("I can't drink almond milk so can you get me some whole milk?", or "Please call Donna and ask her to pick up the car for me."), and they say yes, and then they do something that is not what you asked for but is what they think you should have asked for ("I know you said you wanted whole, but I got you skim milk because it's better for you!", "I didn't want to ruin Donna's day by asking her that, so I spent your money on an expensive towing service!") And then if you get annoyed at them for ignoring what you actually asked for - and often it has already happened repeatedly - they get angry because they "were just helping you! You should be grateful!!"
And my therapist pointed out that this is not "help", it's "hLep".
Sure, it looks like help; it kind of sounds like help too; and if it was adjusted just a little bit, it could be help. But it's not help. It's hLep.
At its best, it is patronizing and makes a person feel unvalued and un-listened-to. Always, it reinforces the false idea that disabled people can't be trusted with our own care. And at its worst, it results in disabled people losing our freedom and control over our lives, and also being unable to actually access what we need to survive.
So please, when a disabled person asks you for help on something, don't be a hLeper, be a helper! In other words: they know better than you what they need, and the best way you can honor the trust they've put in you is to believe that!
Also, I want to be very clear that the "getting angry at a disabled person's attempts to point out harmful behavior" part of this makes the whole thing WAY worse. Like it'd be one thing if my roommate bought me some passive-aggressive skim milk, but then they heard what I had to say, and they apologized and did better in the future - our relationship could bounce back from that. But it is very much another thing to have a crying shouting match with someone who is furious at you for saying something they did was ableist. Like, Christ, Jessica, remind me to never ask for your support ever again! You make me feel like if I asked you to call 911, you'd order a pizza because you know I'll feel better once I eat something!!
Edit: crediting my therapist by name with her permission - this term was coined by Nahime Aguirre Mtanous!
Edit again: I made an optional follow-up to this post after seeing the responses. Might help somebody. CW for me frankly talking about how dangerous hLep really is.
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Batfam AU where Jason never dies, so Tim doesn't join the family the standard way. Instead, he continues pouring most of his time and energy into his photography, eventually becoming known as a popular photographer for events and all that. So now, picture this:
Tim gets hired to be a photographer for a Wayne gala. Obviously, he's ecstatic, because he can take pictures of Batman, Robin and Nightwing and be in their presence for a whole night. Since Tim is so naturally talented in stealth and taking pictures unnoticed, the second one of the fam realises this they're like: this kid is good.
Tim manages to go unnoticed by all 3 of them (all bat-trained, one literally batman) multiple times during the night, and even when he is noticed, he disappears before they can manage to get a good look at him; to the sheer amazement of Dick and Jason.
Jason, (very discreetly putting snacks in his suit pocket): i know you're under the table, kid.
Tim: don't mind me, Mr. Todd-Wayne, sir, just taking a few pictures
Jason: right... Jason's fine, and what pictures were you taking from under the table?!
Tim, showing him perfectly good shots of him: these.
Jason: how did you get that. it looks like you took it from the rafters
Tim, nodding: I did.
Jason, glancing at the ceiling: ...what?
Tim, gone:
Jason: no fucking way.
Dick, hearing a very, very faint camera shutter from behind him:
Dick, turning around and finding no one there: what the actual...
Dick, getting the feeling of being watched and whirling around to find Tim staring at him from across the room: ... huh.
Jason, pulling Dick aside: you see that kid too, right?!
Dick, nodding: the camera kid, yeah?
Jason: who is that.
Dick: he's one of the hired photographers, apparently. one of the best in his field, despite his age.
Jason: he's good. like, really good. snuck up on me 4 times already, the little bastard.
Dick: you too? i swear he's constantly watching. it's creepy how well he can sneak past both of us.
Jason:
Dick:
Jason: you don't think...
Dick: no. B would've told us.
Jason:
Dick:
Dick: did he get another kid and not tell us somehow
Bruce: what do you mean another kid?
Jason: you heard us. did you adopt another kid and not tell us?!
Bruce: no?? how would I even?? ... what's this about?
Dick: one of the photographers has managed to sneak up on both me and Jay multiple times already
Bruce: what.
Jason: he also can't be more than like. 15 or 16. so forgive us for assuming you took another one in.
Bruce: do you know his name?
Dick:
Jason:
Bruce: really?
Dick: in our defence, he's very hard to catch. i wouldn't be surprised if he's snuck up on you, too.
[camera shutter noise]
All of them, whipping their heads toward the sound only to find nothing but air:
Tim, smiling from the other side of the room:
Jason: do you see what we mean?!
Cue an entire night of shenanigans where it's just Dick, Jason and Bruce trying to catch Tim and learn about him. Upon finding out who he is and where he lives, Dick immediately asks to keep him as an honorary member of the family. Jason is hesitant at first but at some point Tim calls Bruce Batman instead of Mr. Wayne on accident and Jason laughs so hard he's basically won over. Bruce can do nothing but watch as Tim proceeds to come over almost every night for sleepovers and is coddled by both of his sons. And he can't deny, the kid's investigation and stealth skills are top tier. By the time Dick and Jason both start referring to Tim as 'their younger brother' Bruce has just accepted his fate.
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