I just think
It’d be really neat if Danny looked more like Martha Wayne than Thomas Wayne.
LIKE
I love the Danny Fenton looks like Thomas Wayne or Danny Fenton is Thomas Wayne reincarnated — but the BEAUTY of Martha??
Of Alfred interacting for under five minutes with Danny, dabbing his eyes and going, “That is indeed Martha,” I WANT IT. I want Martha who was spunky and sassy and wanted to do good for her town the same way Danny wants to do good for Amity Park.
I want Martha who loved to take Bruce and the family out to star gaze because her baby had never seen the stars before, and the way his eyes light up like a mini galaxy takes her breathe away the same way that Danny feels when he turns his head up to the sky yearning for something he knew loved but doesn’t know what.
I want Martha who would literally find trouble in a paper bag because she can’t help her curiosity the same way Danny can’t help tripping over his own ghostly tail and making a mess of things before he figures things out.
I want Martha who would fight men who thought they held power, going absolutely feral from stress the same way Danny does when he’s tired of not being able to do his homework or pick up a vacuum against the wall to clean because ghosts.
I want Martha who loved the pearl necklace that Bruce had picked out for her birthday, and Danny reaches towards his neck and startles when his fingers only touch skin when he is certain there was something supposed to be there. I want Danny whose eyes linger on whites and pearls when he passes by open window stores in the mall, fingers itching to flick a nail against the smooth surfaces.
I want Martha who died bleeding underneath the hand of a gun, hoping to everything above that her boy would be safe, and Danny whose body burns at merely looking at the makeshift guns his parents create in the lab, his heart pounding desperately with a yearning to save there was someone she wanted to save the ghosts.
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he says i hate everyone except you and that is addictive and that is kind of romantic and beautiful because you're young and you're kind of a sarcastic asshole too and you don't like bad boys, per say, but you don't really like good ones either. and you like that you were the exception, it felt like winning.
except life is not a romance book, and he was kind of being honest. he doesn't learn to be nice to your friends. he only tolerates your family. you have to beg him to come with you to birthday parties, he complains the whole time. you want to go on a date but - people are often there, wherever you're going. he's just so angry. about everything, is the thing. in the romance book, doesn't he eventually soften? can't you teach him, through your own sense of whimsy and comfort?
at first - you know introverts often need smaller friend groups, and honestly, you're fine staying at home too. you like the small, tidy life you occupy. you're not going to punish him for his personality type.
except: he really does hate everyone but you. which means he doesn't get along with his therapist. which means he has no one to talk to except for you. which means you take care of him constantly, since he otherwise has no one. which means you sometimes have to apologize for him. which means he keeps you home from seeing your friends because he hates them. you're the single exception.
about a decade from this experience, you'll type into google: how to know if a relationship is codependent.
he wraps an arm around you. i hate everyone except you. these days, you're learning what he's actually confessing is i have very little practice being kind.
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Tim Drake is insanely wonderful to me because while, yes, he is a genius, an absolutely legendary Robin, a teenager who went up to Batman, looked him in the eyes and practically dragged him back up from the bottom, a kind soul, a boy who will put anyone he cares about above himself, an amazing business man, a prodigy in his own right, a breathtaking photographer and a hell of a funny guy...
He is also Tim Drake.
Bruce Wayne is his adopted father and you can hyphenate his name to Drake-Wayne all you'd like, but when he walks into a gala he is Timothy Drake, the son of Janet Drake. He glides through crowds methodically and with the confidence of someone who has been in these social circles for years on end. His analytical and judgemental stare scares even the most cunning there. When he's in the room, he is the predator and every single socialite in the vicinity is his prey.
Sure he's polite, and he's charming, and yes if you're kind towards him then he will be kind towards you. Tim is someone who will take kindness and he will repay it— but the same rule applies to unkindness.
The person Tim transforms into when entering a gala— the person underneath all that shed skin— never fails to surprise anyone the first time they witness it. It's hard to forget, for the rest of the family, that Tim was brought up in this environment even before being adopted by Bruce.
The first time Bruce noticed, the first gala he brought Tim to, he'd forgotten that Tim knew the ropes and thought he would have to teach Tim how galas work. Only for Tim to stop him, informing (and reminding) him that he's fully aware. The Robin suit may be what he wears to fight, but his three piece is what he wears to hunt.
Dick did something similar; since his first gala was a media nightmare, after he'd gotten adopted, he wanted to spare Tim the horrors of being eaten alive by paparazzi and socialites. He didn't even get to warn his new younger brother before Tim was already off, blending into the scene like he'd never left it at all. (And, just maybe, he truly hadn't.)
It even absolutely stumps (and amazes) Bernard, because he had gotten used to a more relaxed Tim, far, far away from that rich and elite environment. He's seen the younger and more human side of Tim, the one who lives in a cluttered boat in the Gotham Marina and stumbles over his feet during their dates. The first time he gets an invitation to the gala, he's told he will meet Tim there— since the Wayne's are hosting. When he steps into the gala, though, and sets his eyes in Tim, he's absolutely floored.
Gone is the adorable, blushing mess that he sees sitting across from him during restaurant dates. Gone is the absolute geek that could ramble on about anything that currently interests him for hours and hours. Gone is the endearing genius that could figure out any puzzle if he put his mind to it. No, in front of Bernard stands a socialite, a young one yet one who knows his place. One who knows his worth. And yet, when their eyes meet and Tim flashes him a smile, Bernard knows— even in a three piece suit and with a sharp gaze that could render anyone in this huge hall speechless— that's still Tim.
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