The name Sobiesław Kościuszko sounds like his parents quickly googled "Polish culture" as soon as he was born and then fed him nothing but pierogi his entire childhood
Top left:
“Avada kedavra kurwa”- “avada kedavra bitch!!”
Based on this: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=P1tE7S1F4-4
in the center:
“Bejba,” - phonetic spelling of the way our Eurovision singer Blanka sings the word “Babe” (people make fun of that)
Just once, I want Danny to spout off something that he’s clearly heard from Jazz and then cringe at it.
Jason: “Just gotta wait until the Stockholm Syndrome kicks in!”
Danny: “Actually, that is a phony diagnosis created by a sexist psychiatrist who saw a hostage situation on TV and decided that the woman, in fight-flight-fawn mode, was in love with the man waving a gun at h-"
Jason: *raises eyebrow*
Danny, realizing: "Oh, you meant it as a joke… Ancients, I sounded like Jazz there.” *shudders*
Dick, exasperated: “Monkey see, monkey do, after all…”
Danny, eating a snack: "Actually, monkeys mimic behavior as a form of communication and survival, while the so-called Chameleon Effect is influenced by a desire to fit in and be liked by the people around us. It's also influenced by a part of the brain that certain- *pauses* *pushes snack away* And that was super fucking weird to bring up all of a sudden, sorry, what were we talking about?" *face screwed up in disgust*
Dick: *is just amused*
Damian, angry enough to turn red: "-I will eviscerate you so much that even your mother would be disgusted by your incompetent-"
Danny, off to the side and kinda zoned out: "Did you know that excess violence in teenagers, while typically attributed towards early childhood development by those around the teenager, is almost always caused by their current situation and a feeling of estrangement, lack of control, or- wow, yea, okay, I'm shutting up now, I just realized what I sounded like. Uegh."
Damian, suddenly calm: "You bring up a valid point, Daniel. Come, make your argument in front of father. Please."
Tim: "I'll sleep when I'm dead; for now, there's coffee."
Jason: "That shit stunts your growth, pipsqueak."
Danny: "That was actually debunked. What coffee does do is it blocks your adenosine receptors and enhances your dopamine signaling, increasing your mood and motivation as well as enhancing your memory, and then it also improves your attention and alertness. However, it also increases your anxiety and sleep disturbances, which can mess up your memory consolidation and brain recovery." *makes a disgusted face* *shudders* *takes a sip of an energy drink* "Anyways, ignoring all that nonsense that I'm definitely ignoring that I've accidentally memorized, sleeping when you're dead is also a myth. I would know." *chugs energy drink*
Tim, despairing with a tight grip on his coffee: "Nooo, I was relying on that!"
Dick: We need to find a way to establish communication with the ghost or we're in for a fight I doubt we can win. Any ideas?
Garth: We already ruled out most of land languages. I could try Atlantean? Or four of the Seven Sea Comman?
Dick: Go for it it.
Garth: *Turns to flouting figure and speaking in clacking tounge sounds*
Dick: Well?
Garth: No reaction. I don't think he understands.
Dick: Drat. Anyone else?
Kori: I have tried using the few languages I know, and I also failed. However, if I can get close enough I could use my people's lip to lip contact to learn his language instantly.
Dick: I doubt that he will let you get that close but we can try- what are you two doing?
Roy: Setting up the ultimate form of communication
Wally: Interpretive dance! Hit it!
Dick: No-
Wally/Roy:
Danny floating down, teary eye: No one has ever said such poetry about my mother.
Dick: you spoke English this whole time!?
Danny: No, I learned it just so I could thank these two for the touching way they spoke of my mother.
The Eridians, pointing proudly at their Human-Safe Biodome: that’s where we keep Grace, who saved the stars and spends his time teaching our children about science. we owe him everything.
The Eridians: oh and also Simon. we found him in a blood-covered dumpster and we think he has rabies.
The sad part is there’s a decent chance a large proportion of them can be blamed on one spider.
The tarantula that bit JRR Tolkien as a child.
He swore he didn’t have a spider phobia and the experience had nothing to do with the man-eating giant spiders in The Hobbit, the even more giant and even more man-eating spider in Lord of the Rings, or the unholy eldritch spider from outside creation that plunged the world into darkness and made literal Satan scream like a little kid in the Silmarillion. Very few people believe him.
Given LotR’s influence in the fantasy genre, there is a high probability that tarantula is the progenitor of even more fictional spiders than Ungoliant was.
“fantasy universes have too many spiders” factoid actually just statistical error. Georgs Spider, who bit JRR Tolkein & is to blame for menacing over 10,000 fantasy universes, is an outlier adn should not have been counted
Yknow the lil fanfic trope where a character, usually non-human, purrs like a cat. In this case it would obviously be Rocky but what if it was Grace instead hear me out-
I love how the notes for this are just chock full of examples of the most batshit specific things people research for their fanfics. Truly a treasure trove.
bruce and dick, father and son? classic. batman and robin, partners in justice? exciting. bruce and dick, brothers with a huge age gap? more likely than you think.
-
Jason: *loses in a game against bruce*
Bruce, patting his back: it’s alright son, let’s play again
Dick: *loses in a game against bruce*
Bruce: that’s for calling me old
Dick, screaming at Bruce: HOW COULD YOU?!
Duke, new to the fam, very concerned: what’s happening?
Tim: you don’t wanna know
Duke, nervous: …is it something really bad?
Tim, gravely: yes
Dick, shaking Bruce: HOW COULD YOU?! HOW COULD YOU DRINK MY SMOOTHIE?!
Duke:
Alfred: *pointedly looking at the broken window*
Bruce: dick did it
Dick, in space, on call with Alfred: i wasn’t even anywhere NEAR there
Cass: fuck!
Bruce: language
Steph: let my girl say fuck
Bruce: language.
TV playing in the background: ..nd SCORE! unfortunately, the Gotham Guardsmen have lost to Metropolis Metros once m—
Dick, from the couch: motherfUCKER
Bruce, angrily: metropolis BASTARDS
Cass:
Cass: not fair >:[
In a restaurant
Barbara: dick can you pass me the salt
Dick, with headphones on, not hearing her:
Barbara: dick? dick. dick!
Bruce: ill get it
Bruce: *reaches for the salt near dick’s plate*
Dick: *suddenly has his arms around his food, his fork clattering to the ground, their drinks spilling everywhere*
Bruce:
Dick:
Barbara:
Dick: ...in my defense these are some real good nachos
Dick: *waltzes inside bruce’s room, not saying anything*
Bruce: ...?
Dick: *looks at the pictures on the walls*
Bruce: can i help you??
Dick: *checks himself out in the mirror*
Bruce: please do that in your own room
Dick: *turns on the lights and rummages in the drawers*
other superheros get training from their mentors, from the super secret society, from alien tech,from the monks or they have some kind of military background.
phantom, on the other hand, got training from the firefighters in his town after he crashed on their cases one too many times and they decided that "yup, if your gonna try to help, might aswell give you some training so you could be useful.", he got training from the paramedics because they were worried he wouldn't know how to help an injured human, he got training from his local town detective who smokes too much and gives him cookies when he can help with his Ghost senses and figure out if this was a human crime or a ghost crime.
when i forget to log into ao3 and i have to click proceed to see an adult fic, i actually get a kick out of it. like i am an old timey queen and my bard is apologetic: “gentle lady, dicks doth touch in this next ballad. would you prefer another?” and i give him a gesture of command like, “nay, you may proceed, minstrel. bring forth the tale of dicks”
I remember an interview with a guy that did the camera work for nature documentaries and he said that baleen whales like these guys were the scariest things to shoot because “They’re the size of a train, they can suddenly appear out of nowhere in dark or murky water and they don’t make a goddamn sound. I was absolutely sure that one of them was going to hit me and well, ‘that’s all folks!’. Gave me a lot of perspective on how I handle myself when filming smaller animals now.”
I’ve been imagining this story prompt for a week now and am finally writing it down
Danny and Tim are in the same class (college or high school idc) and Tim has a raging fever from some infection he got tumbling around Gotham rooftops and alleys. It’s a filthy city, infections are gonna happen (does he have a spleen? dealers choice).
Danny, Tim, and another classmate are put on a team project for the duration of the class, and the other notices Tim is flushed and sweaty and calls him out for it like “Hey dude I think you’re super sick you should go to the nurse” and puts a hand against Tim’s forehead to test for fever. Tim’s too exhausted to protest. He’s legit almost passing out but good at hiding it.
“Wow he’s really burning up. Danny, feel this.”
“Nah I can never tell,” Danny says. “I run cold so checking temp isn’t something I’m good at.”
“Well maybe that’ll help him wake up a little,” and the other classmate grabs Danny’s hand and puts it against Tim’s cheek.
Tim sighs and presses his face into Danny’s hand like a cat. Danny blushes. Other Classmate laughs and shoves Danny closer to Tim, who absolutely buries his face against Danny’s neck and drags him into a vice-grip-hug.
Danny is sputtering and blushing tomato red.
The teacher finally notices and walks over. Whole class is watching, laughing, whispering. Other Classmate explains to teacher that Tim is super feverish and teacher tells Danny to take Tim to the nurse.
Danny tries to move away but Tim holds on tighter and Danny eventually just sighs and lifts Tim into a princess carry (making more classmates giggle or whistle) before walking out of the room to go find the nurse’s office on campus.
Story extras -
Tim is given some basic meds and the nurse calls his emergency contact to pick him up with orders to visit their family doctor. (Bruce or Dick or anyone else, whichever fits your timeline.)
Tim becomes lucid enough to ask Danny why he’s so cold (he hasn’t let go yet) and Danny says, “Well not every meta can fly or throw laser beams. Some of us are just chilly. And it comes with the perk of not needing a winter jacket.” — in this story Danny isn’t shy about being meta, it’s a good cover to deflect any ghostliness, and being naturally cold is an easy answer alongside being something that’s obvious to anyone who touches him by accident. He plays it off nonchalantly. Maybe he goes on a rant about metahuman rights and how just because some people got a funky gene it doesn’t always result in superheroes and villains, some people are just accountants who hiccup bubbles.
Tim is severely touch starved and enjoys holding Danny for that reason. No other. Nope. That’s all, just the touch starvation. It’s really nice to have a prolonged hug and be held by a really cute cold boy.
Danny tries to pass Tim off to whoever comes to pick him up. It’s embarrassing trying to pry Tim off him and Danny can’t seem to make the blushing go away. “I’m so sorry. Wow this is so awkward. No this has never happened to me before and I’ve never talked to Tim before today we’re only in a couple classes together no we aren’t secretly dating why would you think that?! No he didn’t ’fall asleep in my arms’ he literally passed out from fever please get him to the hospital asap he needs an iv for fluids and meds!!”
Danny eventually gets back to class, which is nearly over. Other Classmate joined a different group and the teacher gives Danny a printout of the assignment that he can complete with Tim within the week. Great… now Danny has to see the cute clingy boy again. He can’t let Jazz know about today or she’ll read way too much into this.
The fluorescent lights of Gotham Academy were always a bit too bright, but today they seemed to be actively stabbing him in the eyeballs.
Tim wasn’t sure if it was the lights or if his brain was simply trying to shake itself loose from his skull.
A "minor" scratch from a rusty fire escape while chasing a lead in the Narrows had turned into a full-blown, limb-heavy, mind-fogging infection. Just his luck.
"Okay, so for the architectural analysis, we should probably start with the- Tim? You okay, man?"
The one talking was Marcus, their third for the semester-long urban planning project. Tim blinked slowly, trying to focus on the blueprint in front of him. His skin felt like it was being toasted from the inside out.
"Fine," Tim rasped. "Just... tired."
"You’re shivering," Danny Fenton noted from Tim’s other side. Danny was a quiet transfer student who always sat at the back and wore hoodies no matter the weather. He was looking at Tim with a strange, analytical tilt of his head.
Marcus reached out, pressing a palm firmly against Tim’s forehead. He recoiled instantly. "Holy hell! Dude, you’re burning up. You’re literally radiating heat. You need to go to the nurse like right now."
Tim tried to protest, but his tongue felt like a dry sponge. He just leaned back, his eyelids fluttering.
"Wow, you can feel it even when you're not touching skin," Marcus said, turning to Danny. "Danny, feel this. I think he’s like actually boiling."
Danny held up his hands, retreating slightly. "Nah, I’m the worst person to check. I run cold. Like, abnormally cold. I can never tell what a 'normal' people temp feels like."
"Well, in that case maybe you’ll act like an ice pack and wake him up," Marcus joked.
Before Danny could dodge, Marcus grabbed Danny’s wrist and guided his hand directly onto Tim’s flushed cheek.
The reaction was instantaneous. To Tim, Danny’s skin didn't feel like skin it felt like a slab of marble pulled from a freezer. It was the most wonderful thing he had ever felt.
Tim let out a long, shaky sigh of relief. He leaned into the touch, nuzzling his face into Danny’s palm like a desperate cat. You'd half expect him to go mrrr.
Danny froze, his face turning a shade of red that rivaled Tim’s fever. "Uh. Tim?"
Marcus barked an unexpected laugh. "Whoa, he really likes the AC!" He gave Danny a playful shove, pushing him closer to the slumped over Wayne.
That was all the permission Tim’s delirious brain needed. Taking the oppertunity to move forward, wrapping his arms around Danny’s waist and burying his face into the crook of Danny’s neck. He squeezed, locking his fingers behind Danny’s back in an impossible to escape vicegrip.
"So cold," Tim mumbled into Danny’s hoodie. "Don’t move. Stay."
The classroom went silent for a heartbeat before the snickering started. Danny sat there, arms hovering awkwardly in the air, his face now a vivid, glowing tomato red.
"Mr. Fenton? Mr. Drake?" The teacher, Mr. Harris, marched over, peering over his spectacles. "What exactly is the meaning of all... this?"
"Tim's got a fever, sir!" Marcus explained, grinning. "Danny’s apparently a human popsicle, so now he's helping Tim from melting."
Mr. Harris looked at Tim’s limp, clinging form and sighed. "Fenton, take him to the clinic. Now. Before he faints on the floor." The last thing the school needs is problems with Wayne.
Danny tried to pry Tim’s hands loose. "Alright, Tim, buddy, let’s go. Let go."
Tim only tightened his grip, a low, pathetic whine escaping his throat. He wasn't letting go of the cold.
With a look of pure, soul-crushing defeat, Danny sighed. He shifted his weight, hooked one arm under Tim’s knees and the other behind his back, and hoisted the billionaire’s son into a perfect princess carry.
The class erupted. Someone whistled; Marcus started filming on his phone. Danny ignored them all, marching out of the room with a burning face and a freezing chest, Tim’s head lolling contentedly against his shoulder.
In the nurse’s office, Tim had been looked over and given some medicine. He was currently lying on a cot, but he still hadn't released Danny’s hand. Danny was sitting on a plastic chair, looking like he wanted to be anywhere but there.
"Why are you... so cold?" Tim asked, his voice finally regaining some lucidity as the meds kicked in.
Danny leaned back, staring at the ceiling. "I'm a meta, Tim. Not all of them can fly or shoot laser beams. Some of us just have funky internal thermostats. It’s a genetic lottery, and I pulled the 'chilly' card."
Tim blinked, his thumb subconsciously stroking Danny’s knuckles. "Does it... hurt?"
"Nah," Danny said nonchalantly. "It’s a perk most of the time. I save a fortune on winter jackets, and it's great during heatwaves. People get so caught up in the 'super' part of metahumans, they forget most of us are just... weird. No one’s gonne be calling me any time soon to join the Justice League, you know? It's just a thing."
Tim didn't reply. He just closed his eyes, savoring the chill. It wasn't just the cold, though his fever-wracked brain wouldn't admit it. He was exhausted, feeling touch starved, and lived in a house of stoic vigilantes. This- this was nice.
The door swung open, and Dick Grayson practically tumbled in, looking frantic until he saw Tim.
"Oh, thank god," Dick exhaled. Then he paused, eyeing the way Tim was practically entwined with the black-haired boy in the chair. "Oh hell, and you are?"
Danny scrambled to stand, but Tim held fast, nearly dragging Danny onto the cot with him.
"I’m Danny! From class!" Danny squeaked, his blush returning with a vengeance. "I’m so sorry. This is... it’s not what it looks like!" Danny regretted that line the moment it came out of his mouth, couldn't look more guilty if he tried. Dick's gradually appearing shit eating grin confirmed that as well.
Despite that, Danny stammers on, "I’ve never even talked to him before today! We’re just on a project together! I don’t know why he’s doing this!"
"He's a popsicle," Tim mumbled sleepily. "My popsicle."
"He just has a fever." Danny protested to Dick, who clearly was enjoying watching this whole mess unfold. "He literally passed out from a 104-degree fever! Please, take him! He needs an IV and probably a tetanus shot, and I need to not be here anymore!"
It took five minutes and the Dick’s help to finally pry Tim’s fingers loose. Danny practically bolted for the door the second he was free.
"See you soon, Danny!" Dick called out mischievously.
"I am moving to Canada!" Danny yelled back over his shoulder.
He slipped back into the classroom just as the bell rang. Marcus was already packing up.
"Hey, Jack Frost," Marcus said, handing Danny a packet. "Teacher said cause you two are like top of the class anyway you and Drake can just do the assignment together and he reassigned me to a different group, so here's the stuff you're gonna need."
Danny looked at the packet, then at the empty seat where Tim had been shivering an hour ago. He could still feel the phantom weight of the boy against his neck.
He groaned, burying his face in his hands. He could not tell Jazz about this. She’d start all over again about his need for more friendly social contacts now that they are here in Gotham.
He just needed to finish the project. That was it. No more hugging. And no more princess carries.
.
.
.
