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.
I closed the bathroom door to pee with a little privacy (other people with cats are already shaking their heads at me) because Weevil is being particularly clingy this afternoon, and when she’s like this and I go to the bathroom, she immediately jumps on my naked lap, which is cute but also. Honey I am trying to piss. So I closed the door, and now the baby is CRYING, she is WEEPING, she is scrambling her little claws against the wood and mewling, all of which is turns out is actually more distracting to the whole process I’m trying to start in here, on account of it being hard to relax when you are also wondering if you’re history’s greatest monster, so fine fine, the cat wins. I got up, shuffled over to the door, and let her in, at which point she ran between my legs and jumped up on the toilet bowl. I’m not sure what her end goal was here because Weevil is the clumsiest cat I’ve ever met, so she instantly slipped, got her front legs soaked in in the miraculously still unused toilet, jumped six feet in the air, and knocked over every knock overable item in her immediate vicinity. And now she’s SO SAD again because I won’t let this creature still damp with toilet water sit in my lap. I am raising a toddler with claws.
Silverstream feeling devastated as she watches her kits grow up isolated in RiverClan because she understands their loneliness; and Stormfur and Feathertail resenting her all their lives because they blame her for that loneliness is such a specific type of angst that I will always devour.