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."
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i both firmly believe that self-diagnosing saved my life and i think that the way tiktok and instagram have recently been spreading misinformation about mental illness/neurodivergence is incredibly harmful.
people who are looking for answers are already people who are in a vulnerable situation.
much of the misinformation appears logically sound; and is presented as definitive fact (prefaced with claims such as "research shows"). it's imperative we remember correlation does not prove causation. it is incredibly dangerous to make definitive statements like "if X happened in your childhood, you now Z as an adult." real scientists will almost always use may or other less-definitive terms. similarly, equating one behavior/experience with any single condition is also unsafe. many conditions have overlapping symptoms; and many people "mask" their key symptoms, even to themselves.
we cannot discern from a singular data point any conclusion. in official diagnosis, for a behavior/experience to be considered a symptom, it must significantly influence your life. many people enjoy an organized space. that is a preference. disrupting your daily life even at personal cost in order to prioritize organization is more likely a symptom.
again, a single data point is not an effective diagnostic tool. it is necessary and important work to catalogue and consider all unwanted/distressing behaviors in order to understand a complete picture of the person.
i will see creators in paid partnerships make generalized behavioral/emotional claims that apply to a large portion of a community, and then they will suggest that the "solution" to that behavior is through their paid partner/through their personal support. "follow for more psych tips/facts" is an incredibly evil marketing tactic. i very rarely see unpartnered/unbranded content on how to aid/comfort those behaviors and feelings.
much of the misinformation employs a subtle technique (called confirmation bias) of setting up a conclusion before "proving" the conclusion. "you know you have X when you experience A,B, and C." no person's experience of their conditions/behaviors will look exactly the same as another's. while knowing certain things might be a sign/symptom of a condition, it is irresponsible to consider it definitive.
confirmation bias is unfortunately extremely effective on tiktok specifically. the algorithm will notice that you interacted longer with the video that "proves" (through a singular video) that you "have" a condition. it will continue to feed you related videos that further confirm what you believe.
this is dangerous because we are, unfortunately, not good at knowing ourselves. i did not know it was unusual to vividly nightmare every night; i didn't consider it a symptom. i was similarly dismissive also of any other signs of my PTSD - i incorrectly assigned them to anxiety/adhd. on the small scale, this can mean a longer journey to healing. on the larger scale, it can mean people with extremely difficult situations are unable to get the help they need.
please, if you can, and you're looking to self-diagnose: be careful about what you assume about yourself. try to keep an honest journal of what you're thinking/feeling/doing for a few days.
do not go in with an assumption. try to keep an open mind. i think we all "suspect" we have something - but like i said, i completely missed my own PTSD symptoms, because i suspected the ADHD the most, and only "saw" those symptoms.
do your own research. if the tiktok says "research shows", google that research. figure out who paid for that research. do further research related to that study - has it ever been repeated? is it peer reviewed? do other researchers seem to accept it as conclusive?
if you feel you really resonate with the materials of one person's experience with a condition, find other examples. see if you relate to other creators who identify similarly.
and please - please do not stop once you come to a conclusion. i fully believe that the diagnostic process should be seen as a first step, not a destination. by knowing what you might be struggling with, you gain an incredibly powerful tool on how to gain peace with that condition.
if you feel yourself emotionally respond to a tiktok/etc that suggests something that might be true about yourself, i'm glad you had that experience. but it's also important to not relax into the "easy" answer. interrogate it. start googling what else that could mean; what ways you could work on healing that wound.
healing does not "belong" to any one condition. i want you to begin to look into healing no matter if you have "proven" you have a condition or not. it is never selfish to practice responsible self-care. even if you don't relate to having adhd, you are not harming me by using adhd-inspired study tips. it is not making my condition worse for you to seek peace by asking for more time on tests. even if it was - the fault would be with the system, not in your need of something the system makes inaccessible.
remind yourself that everything you experience is real. and because it is real, it is complicated. while things might be related - even sometimes clearly related - a stranger on the internet cannot make that discernment for you. you as a person deserve the work, attention, and care that goes into the process of unravelling the harm that has been done to you.
it makes me very, very upset to see how popular these videos have become, because they're so irresponsible. and they clearly are targeting a vulnerable group. for example, making generalized claims about children of unloving caretakers is targeting those who have experienced neglect. there is no way to use 30 second videos to correctly analyze what that neglect might have caused in your adult life. i'm sorry, but it's snake oil.
i know it is so powerful soothing to recognize that you aren't broken. that others exist like you out there. i want every person looking for answers to find their answer. i want you to feel seen and heard and understood. i want you to find your community.
i just want it to happen safely.
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Prompt ask! 😍
"I need you, though"
guess who went to the zoo today i went to the zoo today so this is the premise of my zookeeper au in ficlet form
(1.6k) (warning: himbo obi-wan)
Obi-Wan Kenobi is leaning against the post of the goat pin, watching him.
Anakin doesn’t quite know what to do about that, and he decides to table the issue until he has a moment to shoo the man away.
What he can’t figure out is why Obi-Wan Kenobi is here. They’ve never talked. Until this very moment, he hadn’t realized Obi-Wan Kenobi even knew who he was, but when he turns his head slightly to the side to peek over at him, it’s definitely him that he’s looking at.
Of course he knows who Obi-Wan Kenobi is though. He’s one of the best zookeepers in the Coruscant Zoo—and probably the most recognizable. After all, he’s the head of the team that works with the big cats, and everyone comes to the zoo to see the lions and tigers be fed and sleep. And whatever else the lions and tigers do.
It probably helps that the guy feeding them and playing with them is undeniably also probably handsomest man in all of Coruscant.
Maybe not, Anakin doesn’t know.
What Anakin does know is that it’s very hard to look in Obi-Wan’s direction without imagining beard burn on his thighs, a fact of life that’s thus far not mattered much.
But now he’s surrounded by little children, exhausted moms, and goats, sheep, rabbits, and ponies. Arousal is not one of the feelings he should be having at this moment.
He throws the fresh hay down by the stable and wipes the sweat off his forehead. He needs to get Obi-Wan Kenobi to leave because he probably has—like, an actual job to do. He’s wearing his zookeeping jumpsuit, which means he probably should be on the other side of the zoo, prodding sleeping lions or petting tigers.
He’s probably scaring the bunnies, smelling all like big cat and predator and sandalwood cologne with just a hint of spice—
Look, it’s normal that Anakin knows what Obi-Wan Kenobi smells like. They’ve passed each other in the hall before, at work events. He’s pretty sure Obi-Wan Kenobi has come out of the bathroom right before Anakin went in a few times too, so it’s not like it’s abnormal to know how the guy smells.
And the most important thing is he can’t be smelling like that around Anakin’s babies, because they’re probably terrified and they have to put up with enough with all the snot-nosed brats that come in and try to pull their tails or ears.
On his way over to Obi-Wan Kenobi, he sees a little girl in a princess dress doing just that with Cinny-Minny Bun Bun, which is a crime too grievous to go unpunished, so he redirects his body immediately to snatch the poor bunny away from the girl’s grubby little fingers. “You’ll hurt her doing that,” Anakin chides in a perfectly polite sort of voice, cuddling the bunny to his chest. Cinny is quivering. “What if someone came up and pulled on your ears? How would you like that?”
The little girl looks at him for two seconds before promptly bursting into tears. Internally, Anakin rolls his eyes. Kids cry about everything, but they especially don’t like being told that they can’t torture small animals.
Psychopaths, all of them.
He keeps Cinny against his chest as he turns away from the kid and finishes his trek over to Obi-Wan, who is giving him a very unimpressed raised eyebrow.
“You can’t be here, you’re scaring the animals with your—big cat scent,” he says once they’re face to face, separated by the posts of the fence around the petting zoo.
“You’re scaring the children,” Obi-Wan Kenobi points out, which may be the first words he’s ever said to him directly.
Anakin scowls and adjusts his hold on Cinny-Minny. “Children are the worst.”
Now Obi-Wan is smiling slightly, which is a really good look for him. “Your job hinges upon being able to work with animals and children, and—and, Mr. Skywalker, that was a very disappointing display I just witnessed. I understand thata you’re still grieving the unexpected loss of your wife, but you have to keep your personal life from affecting your work, or we’ll be forced to terminate your contract with Coruscant Zoo. I’ll be making a note of this incident in your file for your performance review at the end of the month.”
This is all said very sternly and with a self-assured yet disapproving tone.
But Anakin thinks he’d probably notice if he had a wife and also if she died tragically. He blinks at Obi-Wan and wonders if the man is having a stroke. He’s also pretty sure Obi-Wan can’t actually fire him.
He could probably sic the big cats on him though, which is less than optimal.
“Uh,” Anakin settles on saying.
Obi-Wan’s eyes dart away from his face and then back to him before he breaks out into a grin. “Sorry, the mother of the child you traumatized was coming over looking rather unhappy. I thought if I told you off for your outlandish and boarish behavior, she wouldn’t feel the need to. And she’s turned back now, so. You’re welcome.”
Anakin blinks. “Me and my dead wife thank you,” he finally says. “You need to go though. They can probably smell Split Pea all over you.”
“I don’t actually roll around with the lion as much as you may think I do,” Obi-Wan says, and both of his eyebrows are raised.
“Oh, of course. That’s just the tigers.”
“Chowder and Gumbo enjoy my company, but for the most part I do stay out of all of my enclosures. They’re big cats, not exactly petting zoo material.”
“Which is why you need to leave,” Anakin says again, in case Obi-Wan didn’t hear that part. “You’re scaring Cinny-Minny.”
“Cinny-Minny.”
“Cinnamon Minerva Bun Bun.”
Now it’s Obi-Wan’s turn to blink. “Ah. Of course.”
“All your animals are named after soups,” Anakin says defensively. “Don’t throw stones.”
Obi-Wan looks amused, which is also a very good look on him, the fucker. “I didn’t say anything,” he points out.
Anakin scowls and clutches Cinny close. He’s ninety percent sure she’s fallen asleep.
“You need to leave,” he reiterates.
“I need you though,” Obi-Wan says, and then looks slightly horrified. “Your hands. No, sorry. I mean—” it’s the first time this entire conversation that Obi-Wan Kenobi has been flustered, and Anakin would be enjoying it a lot more if he could think past all the mental images of what Obi-Wan could use his hands for.
“That,” Obi-Wan finally spits out, looking mortified as he rubs a hand over his face and uses his other one to gesture at—
Anakin blinks down at Cinny. “My bunny?”
Does Obi-Wan think the petting zoo animals are like class pets that the employees can go home with? How did he get such an erroneous conception and also why is Anakin sort of jealous of a rabbit right now?
“Yes,” Obi-Wan says. “Well, no.”
“Thanks for clearing that one up,” Anakin says gamely. “Want to try again?”
Obi-Wan sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, like Anakin is the one being difficult here. “I…am in need of your expertise.”
“My expertise. In…bunnies?”
“Yes,” Obi-Wan snaps. Anakin blinks at him. “I—my friend is out of town for a month, and he asked me to pet sit for him. And I think I’m killing the rabbit.”
This is pretty alarming actually.
“What?”
“It’s not eating anything and it just—sits in its hutch. I haven’t seen it eat any of the food I’ve left out, and it’s like. Shaking?” Obi-Wan crosses his arms. “I’m worried I’ve given it a terrible case of seasonal depression, honestly, but my friend’s daughter will literally never forgive me if I kill her rabbit.”
Anakin thinks he probably agrees with the friend’s daughter, and something like that may flash across his face because it’s Obi-Wan’s turn to scowl.
“I’ve tried everything that works for my cats,” he says. “Nothing. I’m running out of ideas, Anakin.”
This is the first time Obi-Wan’s said his name, and Anakin finds himself half-distracted by how much he enjoys the way it sounds in his voice. But more importantly: “Wait, sorry, did you—did you, what, give the bunny extra bloody meat? Put the food on a stick and wriggle it around to encourage its predator instincts to come out and play?”
Obi-Wan’s silent for a moment too long.
“Oh my god,” Anakin says before bursting into laughter so fierce that he has to shove Cinny into Obi-Wan’s hands just to clutch his own stomach.
Obi-Wan holds the bunny like he’s holding a lit stick of dynamite, and it only makes Anakin laugh harder. This is a man who routinely walks into small spaces already inhabited by clawed and fanged predators and scratches them behind the ears, but the fluffy bunny in his hands looks as if it may break him.
“Alright, thank you,” Obi-Wan says, sounding more than a little put-out and ticked off. “Alright.”
Anakin’s laughter finally peters out, and he takes Cinny Minny back from Obi-Wan before he can give the rabbit PTSD or anything. “Okay,” he hears himself say, which is weird because he hasn’t thought at all about the actual request, unable to think past the mental image of Obi-Wan trying to find a bunny the way he feeds his lions. “Yeah, okay. Do you need just like—advice or. Pet websites? A blog forum?”
“Come over,” Obi-Wan demands. “I learn best through hands-on demonstration.”
Anakin doesn’t say any of the five things that come to mind because they’re all a bit sleazy and he’s better than that. “Okay,” he hears himself say again. “Yeah, okay.”
“Excellent,” Obi-Wan smiles at him before reaching out and using two fingers to gently pet the space between Cinny’s ears.
It’s probably the most attractive thing Anakin’s seen in the last month.
He doesn’t want to think about what that says about him.
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