#hope you all like this!!

[whumpy-tiime]

Shifting Shapes - #2

Guess who got a sudden burst of energy today and wrote 2000 words of hurt/comfort :D

I knoooow I should probably keep the timeline consistent but I can’t help but jump around a bit and get to the comfort Norman deserves, even though I’ve barely written any actual whump about him- who cares have some comfort :)

“It was a gift from my mother,” Norman stated, fiddling with his fingers as he avoided her angry gaze.

“Your ‘mother’? No, no no no,” the medic shook her head and clutched the necklace, “How did you get this!?”

“It was my mother’s,” Norman lowered his head, frantically fidgeting with his fingers.

“No, I refuse— no. Just no. This was my moms. I would’ve known if she had…,” Melissa paused her tirade against the anxious man to look at him with disdain, “You.”

“Dad— um, Stephen made me,” Norman muttered, his face growing a light shade of red.

“What?” Was all the other could get out as she stared in bewilderment.

“Stephen, he made me. I was made with amoeba and human cells. There might’ve been chemicals involved but I can’t remember,” the shorter man quietly tried to explain.

“So, you were an experiment? That doesn’t make you their son,” Melissa snapped.

“They called me their son,” Norman whispered, looking at the great carpet on the ground.

“What?” Melissa’s eyes widened, her face turning an angry shade of red.

“They called me their son. They named me,” Normans voice raised in panic and exasperation.

“Please, you were a pet,” Melissa spat, putting the necklace in her lab coat pocket.

“What? No. They were my parents— wait that’s mine,” Norman desperately tried to reach for the pocket before his wrist was grabbed.

“Shut up. They were my parents. I would know if they got a pet. Don’t you dare act like you actually knew them,” the medic stared at the other while tightening her grip on his wrist, “For all I know, you were the one that killed them.”

“What?” Norman blinked at Melissa. He couldn’t even comprehend that thought. Did she actually think he killed them? They were his parents, they loved him and he loved them.

“Stay away from me, fuckin’ monstrosity,” Melissa dropped his wrist with a look of disgust and walked out of the room.

Norman was left alone. He stood, face blank and mind processing. His eyes slowly started to leak with tears as his body slowly broke down into the black sludge it was made of. The deterioration started with his legs slowly becoming a puddle as the rest of his body melted. As his legs disappeared, his torso soon followed, making the gunky puddle bigger. His neck, face and hair soon disappeared. All that was left was a dark, bubbling puddle of goo. Two eyes stared at the ceiling, still excreting salty tears that just got absorbed by the slime.

Usually Norman would make some effort to at least close his door so no one could see, maybe try to move under the bed or in a jar, but he couldn’t. All he wanted to do was be a sad pile of sludge and for once he was going to let himself be.

Was he really just a pet? But they said he could call them mom and dad, Pets didn’t do that, did they? He was their son, their child, they adopted him. They taught him everything he knew, they took care of him. He couldn’t just be a pet, he was their son—

“Am I… interrupting something?” a familiar voice came from the doorway. It was rugged but soft.

Norman looked at him. Of course it was Axle. The leader always managed to find him at the worst times. Exactly what he fucking needed.

The puddle attempted to shift into a human, managing a silhouette of slime before falling back into a puddle. More tears fell out of the eyes that were embedded in the goo.

“Hey, are you ok? Can you talk to me when you’re, uh, like this?” Axle vaguely gestured at Norman.

The eyes blinked at the man.

“Is that a no?” Said man sat criss cross by the puddle. Though he was exceptionally grossed out by the dark, gooey puddle, he was the leader, and as the leader he had to check in on his teammates, even if a teammate was gross as hell and hard to be around.

“Is it ok if I stay here? Blink once for no, twice for yes,” Axle let out a small sigh.

The eyes stared for a moment and before making any better judgment, they blinked twice.

“Alright, are you, um.. are you crying? Is that what’s happening? Sorry, it’s uh, it’s a bit hard to tell,” the team's leader tried to get some sort of grasp of the situation happening.

The green eyes glanced away before blinking twice.

Axle stared at the slime.

“Ok, do you think you could try to tell me why? I know you can’t talk like this, but maybe there’s something we could do,” Axle brought a hand to his chin in thought, going through different communication methods he had learned.

Norman simply looked at the man. Was he really trying to comfort him? Or at least trying to understand him? It felt weird. He wasn’t sure if it was working but a part of him that craved attention thought so.

The sticky goop gradually formed into a full silhouette of a human. Once the dark silhouette was formed, color and textures soon filled in the smooth darkness, creating skin, hair, and clothes.

Axle focused on the man in front of him, eyes wide. He had never seen him shift that close before. He could practically see every fiber of slime shift into a completely different shape and color. There was something hypnotic about it, like watching a chameleon change to match its background.

Norman sat across from Axle, copying the way he sat.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to be… like that,” Norman apologized to his leader before he got reprimanded, his speech unarticulated and robotic.

“Huh? Oh, it’s fine. I mean, you’re crying, something’s wrong, right? There must’ve been a reason you couldn’t shift before,” Axle plainly replied, trying to quickly figure this out so that the interaction could be over.

“Couldn’t shift because wasn’t feeling good,” the other supplied, looking down at his newly formed hands.

“Do you wanna tell me why you weren’t feeling good?” The tan man asked, following Norman's gaze to his hands. Though he didn’t want to ask, his leader instincts were telling him to suck it up and help his distressed teammate.

“Melissa took mom’s necklace,” Norman whispered, feeling tears returning to his eyes.

“She took your moms necklace? Why would she do that?” Axle didn’t know what to expect but it wasn’t this. This sounded more serious than he thought it was going to be.

“She— uhm, she said that mom was her mom. Said I was a pet. Said I killed her,” Norman tried to coherently explain as he tried to keep himself together, he could feel his cells and muscles struggling to keep form.

Axle stared at the other, completely dumbfounded. What?

“So, you and Melissa have the same mom?” the leader asked, trying to process this interesting information.

“Didn’t know. Knew she had another kid but.. didn’t know it was Melissa. Melissa is angry,” Norman fidgeted with his shirt, avoiding the others confused gaze.

“Ok, so, you guys share the same mom and she’s mad… do you know why she’s mad,” Axle tried to piece this story together the best he could with his teammates words.

“Thinks I was a pet. I wasn’t. I wasn’t a pet. I’m not a pet,” Norman’s voice started to raise with panic, his body moving back and forth.

“Hey, it’s ok, you’re not a pet, you’re not a pet,” the leader tried to calm the other down. This was a sore subject he wasn’t expecting.

“Thinks I killed her. I didn’t. They did, I didn’t. Didn’t want them to. Tried to stop them. Didn’t kill them,” Norman continued with his rambling, his breaths started to quicken.

“Who’s they?” Axle’s face scrunched in question.

“Old team, they wouldn’t leave them alone. Tried to stop them,” Norman’s sobbing had gotten worse, his body starting to turn back into smooth slime, though still retaining a human shape.

“Hey, it’s ok, I believe you. You tried to stop them but you couldn’t, it’s not your fault. You’re ok,” Axle hushed the other, wrecking his brain for ideas on how to comfort him.

They had barely talked, only really talking on missions and sometimes when Axle would do his weekly team check ins and ask the other how he was doing, he would usually get a ‘good’ or a ‘fine’ in return. Now he’s starting to understand why his higher ups insisted on those check ins. He’s also starting to get that dull ache of regret in his stomach. Here was a guy on his team, sobbing, clearly going through it and he had no idea how to comfort him. Usually when his other teammates had moments of hurt he could comfort them easily. Though, this fact seemed to make that feeling in his gut worse.

Without much thought, Axle pulled Normon into a hug. In the first few moments, he was about to pull away, not being able to tolerate the feeling of hugging what was basically a giant mound of slime. Before he could pull away though, he stopped himself. He had two options, pull away and be grossed out and make this already unstable man feel worse, or stick it out and try to help make him feel better. There’s not really much of a choice though, is there?

Norman stilled the second arms wrapped around him. His eyes stayed wide and he held his breath. He hadn’t been hugged in a very, very, long time. He had almost forgotten what it felt like to just be held. His breathing almost immediately calmed, the storm of emotions in his head turned into a slight drizzle.

His color and texture slowly returned as he brought his arms around Axles neck to hug back. He clinged to him with everything he had. This was the first and most likely last opportunity to get any kind of physical comfort and he was going to take it.

“I’m sorry about Melissa. It was awful of her to tell you those things. You weren’t a pet, you didn’t kill your parents. I’m sorry,” Axle brought a hand to Norman's brunette hair to run his fingers through as he murmured words of affirmation, hoping they would help.

“M’not a pet,” Norman mumbled while he rested his head on the other’s shoulder, leaning into the hand combing through his hair.

“You’re not a pet,” Axle reaffirmed, “You’re a very good teammate, one that gets shit done. You’re really good with animals, you’re good at drawing those little things that you do, you’re good at cooking, cleaning, helping stop crime from destroying this city, that doesn't sound like shit a pet could do.”

Norman let out a small chuckle, sighing as he put more of his weight on Axle. His tears had stopped, only leaving forgotten trails on his face.

“Thank you,” Norman let a small smile tug at his lips, “Sorry for this.”

“No, don’t be sorry. It’s my job as the leader to be there for my teammates… if you need to talk about anything, you can. I didn’t realize how much shit you’ve been through,” Axle focused on the feeling of Norman’s hair as he frowned.

The green eyed brunette let out a questioning hum at his remark, continuing to hug him.

“Your parents, your old team, it sounds fucking rough and I’m sorry I didn’t make an effort to try to help you,” Axle looked down, he was so fucking pissed at himself.

“You didn’t know,” Norman whispered, missing with a loose thread on the other's jacket.

“I should’ve known. I… I should’ve made an effort to get to know you. I’m sorry I didn’t. It’s literally my job to know you and I completely ignored it because…,” Axle sighed, he didn’t even have a good reason. Because he was gross? I was rude as hell, but it was true. That and him coming from a villains team.

Axle had never worked with an exvillain, all he could picture in his mind was some stupid cartoon like villain trying to be good but failing miserably, but that wasn’t Norman. Norman was genuinely good and being good, he just needed the right guidance. He still needed to be reminded to actually watch what he wrecked during battles, try not to completely kill the other teams, and not leave his team behind, but compared to what he could’ve been like, Axle didn’t really have much of an issue with having to remind him of those things.

Axle thought of all those times he avoided Norman, because yes he was uncomfortable to be around because of his sludge, but also because of the unease he brought. Norman scared the fuck out of Axle. This guy was a part of one of the most deadly teams that occupied this city and he had seen him tear people apart. Norman was deadly. Norman was a monster, made to destroy whatever he was told to.

Or… was he?

He had literally been sobbing, trying to convince the leader that he wasn’t a pet, that he hadn’t killed his parents. That didn’t sound like a monster. The real monsters had been the ones to kill his parents, making Norman feel like he needed to convince others that he wasn’t a pet.

Axle really fucked up, didn’t he?

Axle tightened his hold on Norman, he can make this right.

Thank you so much for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it :D

[sylvies-kablooie]

i do unironically think the best artists of our generation are posting to get 20 notes and 3 reblogs btw. that fanfic with like 45 kudos is some of the best stuff ever written. those OCs you carry around have some of the richest backstories and worldbuilding someone has ever seen. please do not think that reaching only a few people when you post means your art isn't worth celebrating.

[cozylittleartblog]

cant tell you how bad it feels to constantly tell other artists to come to tumblr, because its the last good website that isn't fucked up by spoonfeeding algorithms and AI bullshit and isn't based around meaningless likes

just to watch that all fall apart in the last year or so and especially the last two weeks

there's nowhere good to go anymore for artists.

edit - a lot of people are saying the tags are important so actually, you'll look at my tags.

#please dont delete your accounts because of the AI crap. your art deserves more than being lost like that #if you have a good PC please glaze or nightshade it. if you dont or it doesnt work with your style (like mine) please start watermarking #use a plain-ish font. make it your username. if people can't google what your watermark says and find ur account its not a good watermark #it needs to be central in the image - NOT on the canvas edges - and put it in multiple places if you are compelled #please dont stop posting your art because of this shit. we just have to hope regulations will come slamming down on these shitheads#in the next year or two and you want to have accounts to come back to. the world Needs real art #if we all leave that just makes more room for these scam artists to fill in with their soulless recycled garbage #improvise adapt overcome. it sucks but it is what it is for the moment. safeguard yourself as best you can without making #years of art from thousands of artists lost media. the digital world and art is too temporary to hastily click a Delete button out of spite

[hansoeii]

[endusviolence]

Rowling isn't denying holocaust. She just pointed out that burning of transgender health books is a lie as that form of cosmetic surgery didn't exist. But of course you knew that already, didn't you?

I was thinking I'd probably see one of you! You're wrong :) Let's review the history a bit, shall we?

In this case, what we're talking about is the Institut für Sexualwissenschaft, or in English, The Institute of Sexology. This Institute was founded and headed by a gay Jewish sexologist named Magnus Hirschfeld. It was founded in July of 1919 as the first sexology research clinic in the world, and was run as a private, non-profit clinic. Hirschfeld and the researchers who worked there would give out consultations, medical advice, and even treatments for free to their poorer clientele, as well as give thousands of lectures and build a unique library full of books on gender, sexuality, and eroticism. Of course, being a gay man, Hirschfeld focused a lot on the gay community and proving that homosexuality was natural and could not be "cured".

Hirschfeld was unique in his time because he believed that nobody's gender was either one or the other. Rather, he contended that everyone is a mixture of both male and female, with every individual having their own unique mix of traits.

This leads into the Institute's work with transgender patients. Hirschfeld was actually the one to coin the term "transsexual" in 1923, though this word didn't become popular phrasing until 30 years later when Harry Benjamin began expanding his research (I'll just be shortening it to trans for this brief overview.) For the Institute, their revolutionary work with gay men eventually began to attract other members of the LGBTA+, including of course trans people.

Contrary to what Anon says, sex reassignment surgery was first tested in 1912. It'd already being used on humans throughout Europe during the 1920's by the time a doctor at the Institute named Ludwig Levy-Lenz began performing it on patients in 1931. Hirschfeld was at first opposed, but he came around quickly because it lowered the rate of suicide among their trans patients. Not only was reassignment performed at the Institute, but both facial feminization and facial masculization surgery were also done.

The Institute employed some of these patients, gave them therapy to help with other issues, even gave some of the mentioned surgeries for free to this who could not afford it! They spoke out on their behalf to the public, even getting Berlin police to help them create "transvestite passes" to allow people to dress however they wanted without the threat of being arrested. They worked together to fight the law, including trying to strike down Paragraph 175, which made it illegal to be homosexual. The picture below is from their holiday party, Magnus Hirschfeld being the gentleman on the right with the fabulous mustache. Many of the other people in this photo are transgender.

[Image ID: A black and white photo of a group of people. Some are smiling at the camera, others have serious expressions. Either way, they all seem to be happy. On the right side, an older gentleman in glasses- Magnus Hirschfeld- is sitting. He has short hair and a bushy mustache. He is resting one hand on the shoulder of the person in front of him. His other hand is being held by a person to his left. Another person to his right is holding his shoulder.]

There was always push back against the Institute, especially from conservatives who saw all of this as a bad thing. But conservatism can't stop progress without destroying it. They weren't willing to go that far for a good while. It all ended in March of 1933, when a new Chancellor was elected. The Nazis did not like homosexuals for several reasons. Chief among them, we break the boundaries of "normal" society. Shortly after the election, on May 6th, the book burnings began. The Jewish, gay, and obviously liberal Magnus Hirschfeld and his library of boundary-breaking literature was one of the very first targets. Thankfully, Hirschfeld was spared by virtue of being in Paris at the time (he would die in 1935, before the Nazis were able to invade France). His library wasn't so lucky.

This famous picture of the book burnings was taken after the Institute of Sexology had been raided. That's their books. Literature on so much about sexuality, eroticism, and gender, yes including their new work on trans people. This is the trans community's Alexandria. We're incredibly lucky that enough of it survived for Harry Benjamin and everyone who came after him was able to build on the Institute's work.

[Image ID: A black and white photo of the May Nazi book burning of the Institute of Sexology's library. A soldier, back facing the camera, is throwing a stack of books into the fire. In the background of the right side, a crowd is watching.]

As the Holocaust went on, the homosexuals of Germany became a targeted group. This did include transgender people, no matter what you say. To deny this reality is Holocaust denial. JK Rowling and everyone else who tries to pretend like this isn't reality is participating in that evil. You're agreeing with the Nazis.

But of course, you knew that already, didn't you?

Edit: Added image IDs. I apologize to those using screen readers for forgetting them. Please reblog this version instead.

[ruporas]

dragon meat, you, and me

[ddejavvu]

Just saw a TikTok complaining about ‘kitten’ as a pet name in fanfiction and while I do agree with/understand their discomfort on that one the comments were FULL of people mentioning all the other common pet names ?? Like honey babe baby sweetheart etc ?? Is your partner just supposed to call you by your name the whole time ????????

[floccinaucinihilipilificationa]

[the-phantom-peach]

Little Big Changes ✂️~

———

CONTEXT~~

A long forgotten short comic I did for pre-totk/post-botw domestic zelink

I love Zel’s hair symbolism especially after altering her status as a “princess”and becoming a Hateno grade school teacher. She’d most likely still maintain some insecurities but that’s what our lovely knight was made for <3

Semi-connected to my previous Signing Link headcanon, Link speaks here for the first time post-Calamity and gets super self-conscious. But of course Zelda doesn’t mind and is happy that Link growing more comfortable after the events of breath of the wild

[andthebeanstalk]

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.

[efplanning]

eeveelution family that studies pokemon evolution and stuff lineup 2.0

[thekaiserroll]

Hug

It's nearly impossible to have a quiet and peaceful day with the crew, like the strawhats. Nami is mostly used to the noise on Going Merry but one day she gets fed up with Zoro and Sanji arguing. Not only are they extremely loud, but they've also already broken way too many things during their fights.

She decides that If they want to act like brats, then she's going to treat them as such. So she makes them apologize and hug each other in silence for an hour. None of them are happy about this punishment, but Nami threatened to raise Zoro's debt, and Sanji couldn't say no to her. It could be worse.

It's awkward enough for them to not incite any fight for a long time and Nami is quite proud of herself. She knows it won't last forever but at least now she knows how to handle them. It inevitably happens again. And again. And again.

Much to her surprise, those fights became more and more frequent. And what's even weirder is that she could see the way both Zoro and Sanji occasionally glanced at her to make sure she was nearby. It's almost as if they wanted someone to make them hug each other. As if they needed an excuse.... these idiots.

Soon, they don't even need Nami's help. When they aren't busy training, cooking or fighting, they cuddle together. Sometimes Luffy or Chopper would join them, but most of the crew knew it was their time.

After two years spent separately, they became extremely clingy. It's no surprise when they start sleeping in the same bed. What is surprising is that despite them behaving like a lovey-dovey couple, those oblivious idiots are STILL unaware of each other's feelings.

[inafallsaway]

Drawing time!

[caffichai]

Polar bears are like, legendarily chubby! So here's my artistic take on Aurora

[hailsatanacab]

Family Dinners - dpxdc

"Holy shit, you're Bruce Wayne!" Danny gaped, jabbing a finger at the man sitting at the head of the table.

The bustling dining room goes silent as everyone turns to look at him.

"Danny, who did you think was going to be here?" Tim asks, disbelief plain in his voice and Danny feels his face flush red.

"Sorry, I, uh, I guess I just never put it together. Tim Drake-Wayne. Wayne Manor. It, uh, makes sense now." He laughs sheepishly and scrubs at his neck before slumping back down into his chair.

"Well," Tim says with an indulgent sigh, "at least I know you're not just friends with me for my connections."

"Yeah, I'm really sorry, I just never thought about it, I guess."

Danny sinks lower as everyone around him laughs. Come to dinner, he said, the food is the best, he said, ignore the family, he said. Danny really wishes he'd listened to Tim and just ignored them—almost as much as he's regretting accepting the offer in the first place—but... he's having dinner with Batman.

Ancients, that's so weird!

The last time he saw Batman was in the future and, suffice it to say, it was not going well. There hadn't really been time for family dinners there.

Wait. Family dinners?

He peers around the table, openly gawking at everyone as it all clicks into place.

"Everything alright, Danny? Now realising who everyone else is?" Tim asks with a roll of his eyes.

"Uh... something like that..." Danny mumbles as everyone laughs again.

From further down the table, the smallest Wayne scoffs and clicks his tongue.

"I thought you said he was smart, Drake?"

"So, you all do it, too, then?" he asks, ignoring the jibe. Danny's only a little bit jealous as he thinks of how much easier they must have it, how much easier it'd be if his family had been on his side, too. "You all work together?"

"Nah," Dick says from across the table with a brilliant grin. "Tim's the only one that works with Bruce, we all have different jobs. I'm a police officer in Bludhaven."

"Disgusting." Danny blurts out without thinking—because seriously, what kind of self-respecting vigilante would also be a police officer?—before clapping a hand over his mouth. "Sorry."

The whole table laughs again, the loudest being the blonde girl a few spaces down from Dick. Look, Danny wasn't really paying attention to names when they were all paraded in front of him. Dick only gets remembered because his name is a joke.

Come on, Danny, recover!

"That's, uh, not what I meant, though."

"Oh?" Dick asks, cocking his head slightly to the side. Is it Danny's imagination or does his smile tense slightly?

"Yeah, I mean like, you know, in costume. It must make it so much easier to have everyone together like this."

"Costume? What do you mean?"

Yeah, Danny's not imagining it, everyone tenses up at that. It's really only now that he's realising that this probably isn't how he should bring up that he knows about their... night time activities. In fact, he probably shouldn't be bringing it up at all.

"Uuhhh..." Danny looks wildly around the table as he continues making his stupid noise. Think, think, think! There must be a way out of this!

"Danny?" Tim asks, looking concerned.

"Oh, Ancients, this isn't how I wanted it to go at all," he mutters, slipping even further into his chair. He's almost on the floor now and he so, so wishes it could just swallow him up.

His real first meeting with Batman was meant to be cool! He had planned to be Phantom, maybe save them from a tight spot, prove his worth as a mysterious and powerful ally as thanks for the help Batman gave him in the future.

"Danny, what are you talking about?" Tim starts tugging on his sleeve in an attempt to pull him back up from his pit of despair.

Eventually, Danny relents and sits up straighter, hiding his face in his hands and whining all the while.

"I'm sorry, I just didn't expect him to be here and it threw me off so now I look stupid and it's so embarrassing!" he wails, flailing his arms wide. "Why wouldn't you warn me that Batman was your adopted dad, Tim? Couldn't you have let me know?"

"I'm sorry, what? Danny are you alright? There's no way Bruce can be Batman, look at him!"

"Yeah," the blonde girl laughs from the bottom of the table, "look at him! That's a wet noodle of a man! Batman can actually do things, B is incapable of pretty much everything."

"Thank you, Stephanie," Bruce sighs, massaging his forehead.

It's... Those are the first words Danny's heard Batman say since everything went down and it's enough to knock him out of his embarrassment.

It's really good to hear his voice again. Especially now, when it's strong and healthy and full of personality—even if that personality is little more than a tired father right now—far better than how it had been, at the end.

Danny sits up, back straight, and grins. He's got this. He remembers it perfectly. Some people count sheep to fall asleep, Danny repeats his mantra to be certain that he'll never forget it.

"Gamma alpha upsilon tau iota mu epsilon, 42, 63, 28, 1 colon 65 dash 9."

Once again, the whole table falls into silence.

"Holy shit..." breathes the other D name (Duke? Danny's pretty sure he's Signal) from opposite Stephanie. "Isn't that...?"

"The time travelling code." The littlest Wayne says stiffly. "We have met in the future?"

"That's not just the time travelling code, Dami." Dick says, looking between Danny and Bruce. "That's the family time travelling code."

Danny's grin freezes in place.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"1 colon 65 dash 9." Dick explains, still flicking between him and Bruce. "It means you've been adopted into the family and we should all treat you as such, no questions asked."

"Tell you what, I'm about to ask a question." Danny says, dumbstruck. "You just told me it was a code to identify time travellers, not anything about being adopted! What the hell, B?"

Bruce looks about as shellshocked as Danny feels.

"We must have been close," he says finally, after opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water a few times.

"No! Not that close!" Danny reels back, taking a deep breath ready to refute it all, but... "Well, I mean, you found me when I first got stuck, and you helped me get better despite being... And then we fought together against the, uh, bad guy, before he, um, he... before you couldn't."

An uncomfortable beat passes while they all pick up on what Danny tried so hard not to say.

"So, you're not from the future, then, you travelled there and came back?" Tim asks, breaking the tension and leaning forward with a glint in his eye.

"Yeah, it was a whole end of the world thing, but don't worry about it," Danny says with a hand wave, "It's all kosher now, won't ever happen."

"What did happen?"

"Seriously, don't worry about it, we cool."

"How long in the future was it?"

"About ten years? You were pretty spry for an old man, B," Danny laughs, wishing they'd get off the topic of what happened and get back to the adoption bit.

Everyone shares degrees of a cautious smile as they relax out of the shock, and Dick—whose grin is the biggest—says, "No wonder you got the family code, you're already riffing on him like one of us. How long were you there for?"

"A week, before I managed to get back to my present and stop him then."

"A week? Jeez, B, that has to set some kind of record, seriously."

"Oh!" Danny says, sitting bolt upright and blinking in surprise before pointing at Dick and bouncing in his seat. "You're Nightwing!"

"What?"

"That's exactly what Nightwing said when Batman told me the code! Makes so much more sense now."

Dick laughs and claps his hands, delighted.

"You were not formally adopted?" The grumpy small one—Dami?—asks, his face pinched.

"I didn't even know I was informally adopted."

"And your parents? Are they alive or dead?"

"Damian, stop—"

"They were dead in the future, but they're alive now." Danny says, looking down. He fiddles with the tablecloth, twisting the fabric around his fingers as he fights down the pang of sadness that he always feels when he thinks of them now. He forces a bright smile on his face and hopes it doesn’t look too strained. "I just, uh, can't talk to them much, anymore."

"Damian," Dick warns, "1 colon 65 dash 9. Treat them as family, no questions asked."

"This is Damian treating him as family, the little turd has no manners." Tim scoffs, rolling his eyes, but he gently bumps shoulders with Danny to knock him out of his funk. Danny can't help but send him a watery smile.

"I have the most exemplary manners, Drake, unlike some people." Damian spits, crossing his arms with a pout. "I was merely ascertaining his status to see how he could possibly fit into the family."

"I know this is all a bit sudden, Danny," Bruce smiles, ignoring Damian and reaching out to lay a warm hand on his arm, "for all of us. But if I felt strongly enough to give you that code after spending a week with you in the future, then you are more than welcome in this family, if you so choose it. I think I can speak for all of us when I say we'd like to get to know you a bit more."

"I know a threat when I hear it, Bruce." Danny snorts. "But, yeah, I get it. I'm sorry this is all so weird, it really wasn't how I wanted to find you again, but... I'm glad I did."

"So are we, Danny." Dick says, with a warm smile. "And formally or not, 1 colon 65 dash 9 means you're family. Welcome to the fun house! No take backs or refunds, sorry. You're stuck with us."

[lesbianballofgender]

Happy 55th birthday to our feral, light and fluffy, serious actor and truly just the nicest person: Michael Sheen!!