#snark attack

[astridsdreamspace]

The Nopework Files, Case 001: A client wants a full SEO blog post in one hour. No details. No mercy. Just vibes and delusion. Join us as we roast the most ridiculous freelance job listings on the internet. Because writers deserve better — and we brought snacks. #snarcasmsaturday #upworkwtf

[squirrelknowsdogs]

“You’re just a lot.” And you’re just a beige wallpaper of a person, Brenda. Let’s Have a Come-to-Squirrel Moment, Shall We? I’m not too much—you’re just emotionally underfed. #TruthBombTuesday #TooMuchIsJustEnough #DealWithIt

[iamsqwrl]

Truth Bomb Tuesday: Your “Support” Isn’t Supporting Me, Karen.

Your “I’m so proud of you!” comment means nothing if you won’t actually support small businesses. Clapping from the sidelines doesn’t pay bills. Let’s talk about performative support and why it’s a problem.

Alright, let’s talk about performative support—aka the art of acting like you care while doing the absolute bare minimum. You know the type. They’ll comment “So proud of you, babe! ❤️” on your latest business post but wouldn’t dare actually purchase anything. Or the ones who lovingly remind you to “charge what you’re worth” but immediately disappear the moment they see your prices. Or, my…

[gearbroth]

take a break

[daltonsnightmare]

MacGyver (2016) s2e22 UFO + Area 51 | Cold Open

[givehimthemedicine]

breaking my silence, I hate the "I'll prosecute, Steve" bit for Max. that girl is running on -382 hours sleep and waiting to be murdered, I don't want her clever and spunky and well-modulated. I want her incomprehensibly lump-throated, bleary, desperate, snapping like a chihuahua

[snapdragonsimming]

Another birthday! Our first (not-so-)little boy is now three, and he’s taken on toddlerhood with a vengeance! Zeke was a fearful, cautious infant, but he’s completely turned that around, Praise God. Colin was so worried about his eldest son being “soft,” how that might reflect on us as parents, and so on. (I can only imagine how disappointed our pastor would be if he thought we weren’t practicing the traditional family values we preach!) I can’t say I wasn’t also nervous. It’s important to encourage healthy, strong masculinity in your sons, especially in this day and age. For a few months we prayed on it as a couple, eventually deciding to sit tight until he was a bit older. Thank the Lord, no intervention was required! He’s now quite the wild thing—running around constantly, getting into messes, and teasing his siblings like boys tend to do.

[mattsmemes]

[metrosexualcyclops]

the captain should watch mash

[tescyn-james-elliot]

Have you ever just tried to.. Stand up to your parents?

"they'd hurt me."

[youngpettyqueen]

Trick or treat!

👻

heyo!!! what do I have here... hm... how about a headcanon?

Hawkeye and Charles were coworkers pre-canon. Hawkeye remembers Charles, Charles does not remember Hawkeye, and Hawkeye claims he's never heard of Charles and doesnt bring up the fact that they literally worked together because pretending he doesnt know a relatively well-known surgeon when they worked in the same city is. fucking hilarious. Charles doesnt remember Hawkeye worked at the same hospital with him until post-canon when Hawkeye goes back to Boston. he doesnt let Hawkeye hear the end of it for about a month and even then it still gets brought up from time to time

this is mostly a joke headcanon but I do think of it fairly often. I just think it'd be really funny for Charles to show up at the 4077 and Hawkeye is sitting there like "of all fucking people." they worked in the same city, so on that basis its not too much of a stretch to say they worked in the same hospital, but I dont think Hawkeye could've held onto the bit of not knowing Charles the entire time they knew each other. thats said, its still very funny to think about

[demonicintegrity]

Yknow tiktok is half known for taking the piss on just about anything so I shouldn’t be surprised, but the absolutely visceral disrespect to what’s happening in Israel and Palestine right now takes the cake

[iminaworldofpureimagination]

every girl in any fandom ever, i swear i've seen this done in 3 fandoms im in its crazy

but noting the tags its interesting how while Diane/Bj arent fandoms popular ship diane still gets crap anyway, girls can't win in fandoms

amazing enough mai from ATLA and diane have called the men zuko/bojack out on their shit and get what in return? Scorn/Hate/considered worse than the men who did way/way worse shit . its crazy how people dont want to hold characters clearly in the wrong accountable for shit

yeah we put your girl in the fandom and they villainized her beyond comprehension. yeah sorry they took out all the nuance and made the argument completely black and white. yeah my bad. we can’t reverse it. sorry.

[cynicallarrie]

I follow both zot3 and wellthatwasaletdown & zot3 has a much much better relationship with her anons. WTWAL lashes out at her anons every day, laughs at them, swears at them.

LMFAOOOOO! Imagine admitting that you follow that zot3! 💀 Aren’t you ashamed of yourself? What the hell is wrong with you that you follow a blog like that? Seriously! Everything.

Also, funny how that part “zot3 has a much better relationship with her anons” LMAOOO.

OF COURSE!!! It’s because most of her anons are sent by HERSELF!!! She sends asks to herself! Why is this so hard to understand? And what relationship with her anons? They only talk shit about Louis! And sometimes liam and niall. That blog is an updated account for Louis, Lottie, Daisy, Phoebe, Lewis Burton, Lucky and all Louis’ family and friends.

The fact that you have anons defending zot3, is absolutely concerning. 🤡

Contrary to popular belief, I don't think all of her asks are sent to her by herself. There's no way. So many harries hate Louis and the others, so of course they'll flock to her blog to release their pent-up frustrations. The reason nobody likes her posts is probably because many of them are actually larries, and they don't want her to know. I talked about this before; you often see the same asks from zot3's blog pop up on larrie blogs but worded differently to sound pro-larrie.

So... that's the only explanation I have for the lack of interaction on her posts.

[verekatt]

Inspired by @greenglowinspooks post

I love the Danny Phantom fandom's medical gore, but why not torture our DC blorbos too?

Lots of fics make Jason an underdeveloped halfa. Lots of fics make Danny basically unkillable because he's a halfa.

I'm going Maximum Angst Route on this one.

The Justice League buys the GIW's rhetoric. They hear about these dangerous energy imprints, these volatile mimicries of life that are hurting people. The GIW claim they've controlled it in the rest of America, but this one small town has a strong one that protects the rest and helps them attack. They ask for help stopping this one, assure them that once Phantom is neutralised, it'll be easy to deal with the rest. The JL agrees. The JL captures Phantom and hands him over to the GIW.

It takes months to capture most of the other ghosts, as they slowly trickle through the portal to find each other. The JL gains an appreciation for the GIW, having previously fought off entities like Skulker and Plasmius without hero help. They trust the GIW, and so when they ask to scan the heroes for any lingering radiation, they agree.

They're alarmed to find many heroes are mildly irradiated. The GIW removes the lingering ectoplasm from most of them, and they're drained afterwards, but they recover. Damian, who had much higher levels than most, seems almost sedated from his usual fury and violence. Cass privately notes that she can't read people as well anymore, and Damian's lethargy looks uncomfortable for him. She gets suspicious, but when no one listens to her concerns, she leaves for Hong Kong again. She's scared that if her levels get higher and they drain her again, she'll lose the ability to read people entirely. She doesn't want to lose such a fundamental part of how she interacts with the world.

When scanning, however, Batman gets pulled aside. They explain they've found a parasitic ghost in Red Hood, and removing it will be a much longer process. They show the ectoplasm levels, the scans with a visible core. Bruce connects this to the Pit Rage, and agrees to let them take Hood, hoping he will finally get his son back. Jason is cautious, but eventually agrees. This could be the cure he never thought he'd get.

The GIW is estatic. They've discovered a new halfa, and if they do this right, they'll be able to study halfa development. They have Phantom to tear apart to see what an actualised halfa looks like, but watching Hood grow and form? Trying to influence his development, maybe even weaponise him? This is an opportunity they have to make the most of. All they have to do is claim the parasite killed Hood before they could remove it, and they can keep him forever.

The second Jason is alone with the GIW, they sedate him. He wakes up in a cage too small to stand in, right next to the very Phantom he helped capture. The kid is asleep, curled on the floor, bleeding through loose stitches on an autopsy wound. He immediately realises they fucked up, and his rage/guilt/panic attack wakes Phantom up. He expected the kid to be angry, upset, even gleeful that Jason was caught too. He didn't expect the kid to look at him with sad pity, to calm him down and say he's sorry that Jason was mislead and betrayed like this. That yeah, shit's gonna suck now, but Danny (as he insisted) would be there for him for as long as their cages were kept together. That unlike Danny these past few months, Jason wouldn't be dealing with it alone.

The scientists slowly feed Jason ectoplasm, and cut him open daily to monitor how it affects him. Ironically, his Pit Rage is cured, but that doesn't make it any better. If anything, it's worse, because now he's fully cognizant and has no extra energy to fight with. He still does fight at first, even without the Pit, but he knows no one's coming to his rescue. Eventually, he joins Danny in his nihilistic snark and dead-eyed stare. And yeah, they joked about that pun.

Time becomes meaningless. They do whatever they can to escape the hopelessness. Horrifyingly morbid jokes, empty bets on what form of torture they'll endure next, whispered stories about the people they miss. They reach through electrified bars just to feel a hand that doesn't mean harm. They spill their guts, metaphorically and literally, exchanging their deepest fears and secrets until they know each other entirely. Their necessary codependency becomes actual love, because how can you go through this together and know each other so deeply and not love each other? Platonically or romantically or the secret third option that's just insanely codependent affection.

Not sure who ends up rescuing them, but I'm thinking either a) Tim gets suspicious, b) the Outlaws go hunting, or c) Cass realises they have Jason and immediately freaks out. Whoever, they meet up with Team Phantom. Tucker and Sam been on the run since Danny was caught, and Jazz could be in Arkham? Or dead, or on the run too. Team Phantom was only held back by their lack of muscle (that's usually Danny), and now that they have trained fighters on their side, they're able to break in and get their boys. Cue long healing journey and revenge time.

[somnoir]

Down Bad in Distress - Part 3

Part 2 | Masterpost

"Daniel, I heard from CW that your children are moving here." Alfred said one day.

Everyone immediately pauses, except for Danny who was happily doing the cooking while Alfred served the food.

"Danny's kids?" Tim narrows his eyes, glancing back at Jason. "Danny?"

"Yeah? Oh, right! Dick, you didn't tell them?" Danny asks, glancing over his shoulder.

Dick nervously laughs, "Slipped my mind. What's that about your kids?"

"Right, right. They didn't like being away from me all the time so they decided to move. I was hoping to enroll Ellie into Gotham Academy." Danny hums, serving Damian some vegan pancakes and patting the boy's head. "She'd be in your year, kid."

Damian scowls, swatting his hand away but it wasn't accompanied by the usual snark.

"And your son?" Dick asks, immediately being scolded by Alfred for talking while chewing.

"Dante takes a Mechanical Engineering course. It was harder for him to transfer since this would be his third year into it." Danny sighs, sounding a little tired just as he serves Bruce some coffee. "But my kid's stubborn as hell."

"How old are your children?" Bruce tilts his head, just as Danny swats away some dust of his shirt.

"Dan is 23 and Ellie is 15."

"Jason and Damian's age. Hm."

The aforementioned two immediately locked eyes, already mentally planning on tracking down the Fenton siblings. As per usual, Alfred beat them to it and quickly gave Danny an invitation.

"When are they arriving? I do hope that they can come for a meal." Alfred hums, patting Danny in the back.

"Today, actually!" Danny beams.

"You're not worried about your kids being in Gotham?" Steph asks, mouth still full. Danny doesn't even hesitate to pinch her sides when she does, making Stephanie yelp.

"My parents taught me and my sister how to fight at very young ages. My kids got the same treatment. Ellie has one hell of a right hook and Dan gets creative with whatever the hell he can use as a weapon." Danny snorts, "I got called by the principal once cause he stabbed someone with a pencil. Not that it wasn't deserved. My kid doesn't like it when people go after his friends."

"Gotham Material?" Duke asks.

"Gotham Material." Danny chuckles, "If a rogue attacks, my kids would go on with their day like nothing happened. Weird shit like that is normal back in Amity."

Ah, yes. The illusive amity park. Where everything is utterly strange. Tim still couldn't get a good background check on the small town in Illinois—a place that wasn't even marked on the fucking map.

"So..." Dick grins, "When do we get to meet them?"

Alfred clears his throat, "Would dinner suffice?"

Danny grins back, "I'll wrangle them here if I can."

The moment Bruce found out Danny had kids, something in his brain short-circuited. The knowledge alone was enough to make him reassess everything he thought he knew about his bodyguard, but hearing Danny talk about them? That was something else entirely.

Bruce had barely asked a question before Danny launched into a full-fledged monologue, his usual lazy grin stretching into something softer, brighter. Every word was laced with pride, every detail shared with the delight of a man who lived to brag about his kids.

In the span of two hours, Bruce learned more about Dante and Janelle Fenton than he knew about most people in his life.

Dante—the eldest—was a menace. An antisocial teenager with a violent streak that made Damian look like a well-adjusted honor student. Fights, trouble, a past full of missteps and regret. But Danny didn't speak about it with shame or frustration. No, he spoke with admiration, because Dante tried. He fought against his own nature, struggled to rein himself in, to be better for the people he loved.

"He’s a smart kid," Danny had said, his voice full of warmth. "Too smart. Built himself a motorcycle from scrap when he was sixteen—real Frankenstein's monster type of thing, but it runs better than my car."

Bruce had to physically stop himself from calling Jason right then and there, because if his second son found out a teenager had built the equivalent of the Batpod out of junk, he would never recover.

Then there was Janelle. Just as troublesome as her brother, but in an entirely different way. She wasn’t a fighter, at least not in the way Dante was. Her chaos was more... exploratory. She skipped class not out of defiance but because something else caught her interest. An adventurous child who saw a locked door and immediately wondered what was on the other side. A girl who thought parkour was a valid form of travel, who had given Danny a heart attack the first time he caught her flipping off rooftops like a circus performer—it reminded him of Dick when he was much younger.

"She stuck the landing, though," Danny had admitted, laughing. "I wanted to ground her forever, but I was also kinda impressed."

And the stars. Both of his kids loved the stars. Danny spoke of late-night stargazing like it was a sacred ritual, like tracing constellations in the night sky was an unbreakable bond between them. And despite the fact that Dante was technically an adult now, despite the fact that Janelle was a teenager with her own life and interests, Danny still spoke of them like they were his babies.

Bruce sat there and listened, absorbing every word. He asked questions because he wanted to know more, because watching Danny light up every time he got to talk about his kids was addicting.

It was attractive. Gods, it was attractive.

Danny Fenton loved his children unconditionally. Not just in the way he spoke of them but in the way he understood them. The way he knew them. There was no hesitance in his words, no uncertainty in their relationship. He knew their struggles, their strengths, their habits—he knew them in a way that made Bruce’s chest ache.

Because as much as he admired it, as much as he wanted to drown in the warmth of Danny’s love for his children, there was an ugly sliver of jealousy buried beneath it all.

Danny’s kids talked to him. They trusted him. There was no barrier, no invisible wall of hesitance between them.

Bruce had spent years trying to connect with his own children, trying to bridge the gaps that always seemed to widen no matter how hard he reached. He loved them with everything he had, but love alone had never been enough to stop them from pulling away.

Danny? Danny just had it. That easy, unquestionable bond. That foundation built on trust and understanding, not just duty or protection.

Bruce swallowed down the jealousy. He shoved it into the part of his mind where he buried all his regrets and let himself be smitten instead. Because damn it, responsible and loving fathers were attractive, and watching Danny Fenton light up over his kids was devastating.

Bruce isn’t surprised that after hearing Danny gush about his kids, he feels compelled—inspired, really—to introduce his own children to the Fentons properly. What does surprise him is how little convincing it takes to get his entire family to cooperate.

By the time he makes his decision, every single one of them is already waiting in the foyer, dressed, prepared, and standing with an air of near-military precision.

Bruce narrows his eyes, crossing his arms as he surveys them. "I wasn’t expecting compliance from any of you."

Damian, adjusting his hair in the reflection of a polished vase, merely scoffs. "Tt. You underestimate us, Father. We cannot afford to embarrass ourselves in front of Daniel’s family."

Jason, standing beside him, is… straightening his jacket? Running a hand through his hair like he's actually making an effort to look presentable? Damian barely spares him a glance before adding, "Todd, don’t mess this up. His eldest is the same age as you and Cassandra."

"Wouldn’t dream of it, demon brat," Jason grumbles, rolling his shoulders like he’s psyching himself up for a job interview.

Bruce is still processing this unusual display of readiness when Alfred arrives, a knowing, fond smile settling on his face as he takes in the scene.

"I must say," Alfred begins, hands clasped behind his back, "I am quite proud that none of you needed prompting. Daniel will appreciate the effort."

"You can count on us, Alfie!" Dick declares, beaming.

Steph and Tim follow up with matching thumbs-ups, their grins full of mischief but their intentions sincere.

"We'll be on our best behavior!"

Alfred simply nods, clearly amused but unwilling to acknowledge it aloud. "Very well—" Then a knock at the door interrupts, and his eyes flick toward the entrance. "Ah. It seems Daniel has arrived."

There’s a split second of calm before chaos erupts.

Bruce watches as his children all lunge for the door at once, elbowing, shoving, and stepping on each other’s feet in a desperate attempt to reach it first.

Alfred, with decades of experience in dealing with their nonsense, doesn’t bother reacting beyond stepping forward and opening the door himself. As soon as he does, he turns and pins the children with a look of utter disappointment.

The effect is immediate.

Every single one of them freezes mid-scramble, jerking upright like misbehaving students caught by a strict headmaster. With impressive speed, they fall into an eerily well-practiced formation, arranging themselves with the kind of poise that makes them indistinguishable from their usual gala appearances.

Bruce sighs. No. That won’t do.

Danny doesn’t do the whole stiff, overly formal thing. If they meet him like this, he’ll just laugh and call them out for it.

With a subtle wave of his hand, Bruce signals for them to adjust.

In an instant, their postures relax. Smiles become more natural—real rather than rehearsed. The atmosphere shifts from forced courtesy to genuine warmth.

Good.

Because if there’s one thing Bruce has learned, it’s that Danny Fenton can read through bullshit alarmingly well.

The first thing Bruce notices is that Danny isn’t in his usual suit. No high-collared, sharp-lined professionalism. Instead, he’s wearing something casual but still presentable—comfortable. It makes him look softer in a way Bruce rarely gets to see. More relaxed. More himself.

There’s a grin on his face, wide and easy, and a warmth in his eyes that Bruce has only ever seen in Alfred when the family finally gathers together after too long apart.

“Oh, you’re all here!” Danny laughs—laughs—and Bruce has to physically stop himself from reacting because—shit. That sounds good. No, not just good—amazing.

And then—

“My kids—Janelle, no! Do not chase after the turkey, and don’t pet Ace without permission! We are not kidnapping the dog—we have Cujo!"

Bruce barely has a moment to process that before Damian stiffens beside him, squaring his shoulders like he’s preparing to throw hands whoever is trying to steal their dog and turkey?

“Sorry,” Danny says sheepishly, stepping fully inside. “She likes dogs a little too much. Dante here is more of a cat person.”

Bruce doesn’t even have time to respond before Danny reaches back and pulls someone into the manor.

And—what the fuck?

For a split second, Bruce genuinely thinks Danny has somehow duplicated himself. But no. Not quite.

It’s another Fenton. Just younger. Scowlier. Broodier.

Dante Fenton is just as tall as his father, just as broad-shouldered and built. But where Danny is all easy grins and shameless affection, Dante is—well, Bruce can only describe it as Jason if he had a twin that was worse.

His arms are crossed, his expression set into a resting bitch face so perfectly executed that Bruce has seen lesser versions of it on Danny himself.

“This is my eldest, Dante—smile,” Danny practically hisses, pinching his son’s side.

Dante immediately hisses back like a feral animal, shooting his father a glare before half-assing the most reluctant, teeth-baring grimace Bruce has ever seen.

Bruce is so close to laughing.

But before he can even comment, there’s the sound of something small tearing across the yard, followed by—

“Ellie, come back here!”

Danny barely has time to sigh before bolting back outside, disappearing for only a second before returning—this time, dragging yet another Fenton into the house.

Bruce blinks. Another one.

This one’s smaller. Female. But still unmistakably a Fenton.

“This raccoon is Janelle,” Danny introduces, exasperated.

“I’m not a raccoon!” Janelle yells, pouting hard enough to make even Damian look impressed.

“You might as well be!” Danny huffs, already brushing off the dirt and grime clinging to her jeans, muttering to himself as he adjusts her hoodie and makes sure she’s not too disheveled. “Sorry,” he murmurs again, glancing up at Bruce like he’s worried he’s making a mess just by existing.

Bruce doesn’t even think before stepping forward, automatically ushering the Fentons further inside.

“No need,” he assures, as quickly and firmly as possible. “You’ve seen my kids, Danny. We have Steph.”

“Hey!”

Bruce barely registers Stephanie’s indignation because, frankly, he’s far too busy being weak over this whole situation.

Timothy Wayne-Drake has met a lot of people who love their parents. Some to a reasonable degree. Some to a concerning one. But he has never met anyone as downright possessive of their father as the Fenton siblings.

At first, he thought Dante and Janelle—sorry, Ellie—were just the skittish type. You know, new place, new people, a little wary of the freakin’ Waynes (which, fair). But, uh. No. That is not what’s happening here.

They are, quite literally, guarding Danny.

They don’t let him stay with Bruce for too long. They don’t let Danny play around with the rest of the Wayne kids unsupervised. There’s always one of them around. Always watching.

At first, it’s just funny. Like, ha-ha, protective kids, whatever. But then Tim starts realizing—

Dante and Ellie Fenton have instantly decided to be at least a little hostile to every single Wayne in the building.

Except Alfred. Because, obviously, everyone likes Alfred.

“So… Erm…” Duke, brave soul that he is, awkwardly tries to break the ice, clearly very aware of Ellie’s piercing blue eyes lasering into his soul. “I was just wondering why you two decided to move. I mean…”

“Oh, that’s simple!” Ellie laughs. Cute.

Then she grins. Not cute.

Sharp teeth. Way too sharp. Like her dad’s.

“Dad was away for too long. We didn’t like that.” Her grin widens. “And besides, Dad seems to be okay with staying in Gotham long term. Might as well move too.”

…Yeah, okay, that was definitely a threat.

There’s something in the way she says it. Something in the undertone.

Like she blames them. Like she’s implying they are the reason her father was gone for so long.

Tim resists the urge to raise his hands in surrender.

Meanwhile, Dante says nothing.

Which, honestly? Probably for the best. Ellie is friendly at least—sweet, in a way that would be reassuring if she didn’t just casually drop the most unsettling offhanded comments.

Dante, though? Dante is just vibing.

With Jason.

In the corner.

Where neither of them is speaking.

And Tim isn’t sure why that’s worse, but it is.

"Where are you guys staying at? Danny’s penthouse, or did you get a house?"

Steph plops into the seat beside Ellie, casually pulling out Uno—the game of friendship-ending grudges and betrayal.

"Jason crashed there once," she adds. "He still won’t tell us why."

Dante freezes. Stiffens visibly as he turns to Jason. His eyes narrow, analyzing. Jason immediately reacts in kind.

For a solid minute, neither of them says a word. Just—silent eye contact.

Then, like some kind of telepathic dude code agreement, Dante nods—approvingly.

Jason hums, looking pleased with that, and then just…turns back to the TV.

What the hell was that?

"Same place," Ellie huffs, like her brother didn’t just have a whole unspoken conversation with Jason. Then she perks up. "Oh, which one of you is in my year at Gotham Academy?"

Everyone, immediately and without hesitation, gestures to Damian.

"Demon Brat," Tim says, speaking for the masses.

Damian scowls, clutching Titus like the dog is his last anchor to sanity. Which, fair. Mostly because Ace—the traitor—has already defected, happily nestling into Ellie’s lap like she handcrafted him from scratch.

Ellie narrows her eyes at Damian, then grins. Wide. Too wide.

"Is that a katana?"

The room stills.

Every single person whips their head toward the katana Damian absolutely does not go anywhere without.

Then, hesitantly, they look back at Ellie.

Who has already stood up and is calmly approaching Damian like she isn’t about to start something.

"May I?" she asks, stretching a hand out.

Tim makes a mental note: this one is dangerous.

"Ellie," Dante finally speaks, voice flat but exasperated.

Damian snarls, holding the sword closer. "What makes you think I’d let you touch my blade?"

Oh, she’s smug now. That’s never good.

"I was in Japan for three months when I was twelve," she says, all nonchalant. "Met a lot of interesting people. Learned how to use and maintain katanas during that time."

Damian squints. "Prove it. How does one properly maintain a katana?"

Ellie tilts her head, almost like she’s insulted.

"You start with uchiko, obviously," she says. "Cotton ball, light taps, no rubbing. Clears out the old oil and dust. Then you use a nuguigami cloth—special cloth, not just any cloth—to wipe it down before reapplying the choji oil with an abura nugui cloth. Not too much. Just enough to coat. And for sharpening, you start with a low grit whetstone, move up gradually, and never—never—go for a high grit too early unless you want to ruin the whole edge."

She smirks. "That good enough for you?"

Damian stares.

Tim recognizes that stare. That’s the oh no, I accidentally respect this person stare.

Horrifying.

Bruce and Danny return just in time to witness what should be a nightmare scenario—Ellie handling Damian’s katana like it’s an extension of her own arm.

Damian, to the horror of everyone involved, is right next to her, calmly discussing proper forms and optimal grips like he wasn’t about to stab her five minutes ago.

Tim resists the urge to check if hell has frozen over. Give Constantine a call and everything.

Bruce, naturally, hones in on Danny with that same soft look he thinks no one notices. Gross. He clocks that shit immediately and blanches.

"Your daughter knows how to handle a katana?" Bruce asks, voice way too fond for what should be a concerned question.

Danny, like an absolute menace, doesn’t even blink. "Both of my kids like swords. Ellie just prefers the lighter and faster ones. Dante likes zweihanders and claymores." He waves a dismissive hand. Like this is normal dad talk and not insane assassin lore drop. "Never understood why you like heavy blades, though."

Dante, without missing a beat, defensively shoots back, "They just feel balanced in my hand, okay?"

Tim files that away under: Reasons to Stay on Dante’s Good Side.

Bruce, still doing the gross fond smile thing, tilts his head. "Did you teach them?"

Danny smirks. "I wish. Got a friend who trained me when I was younger. Dante pissed him off just to be taught, and Ellie followed by annoying him until he caved." He shakes his head, sighing like a put-upon father and not a man casually revealing that his kids harassed someone into giving them weapons training. "Least of the crazy shit they’ve done."

Tim immediately clocks the way Dick’s entire being lights up.

"Oh, do tell," Dick grins, leaning in.

Danny, like an absolute maniac, just shrugs and says, completely deadpan:

"Ellie once snuck out in the middle of the night, went missing for a week, and then I found her in Russia, fist-fighting an assassin just last year."

The room freezes.

Tim can physically hear the record scratch in his brain.

Danny, unbothered, continues, "Dante blew up my godfather’s car when he was about to open it."

Tim slowly turns his head toward the two Fenton siblings.

Who are grinning. The same grin. The same sharp, predatory flash of color in their definitely-not-normal blue eyes.

Oh.

Oh, no.

Tim knew Danny wasn’t human. That was accounted for.

Unfortunately, what wasn’t accounted for was the fact that Danny’s kids were also very much not human.

…He needs more caffeine for this.