There are four main types of Batfam fans in regard to how people interpret Bruce Wayne as a dad (/Joking. This is mostly satire and should not be taken seriously):
Fans that think Bruce is emotionally constipated and isn't the best at being a parent but still tries (Differs per person). Don't necessarily think he's absuive but thinks he can be toxic or have unhealthy expectations for the Robins. Can smell the Oldest Daughter Syndrome coming from Dick and have Family Line (By Conan Gray) as their top song on their Dick inspired playlist and Daddy Issues (By The Neighbourhood) for Jason.
Fans that choose to believe Bruce goes to therapy in their own canon. Love B:WFA. Thinks the comic can be cheesy at times and so find a balance between B:WFA Bruce and Please Go To Therapy BruceTM as their middle ground. He struggles. They advocate that Bruce is not a bad parent, he just has bad writers that seem to forget Bruce wouldn't hurt kids, especially not his own. Love the humane moments and scenes he has in BTAS and the early JL cartoons. He may not be perfect but he's not literally abusive. Whores for Bruce being able to admit when he is wrong and for Jason and Bruce reconciling. I recommend Grow As We Go by Ben Platt for this one.
A mix between the first two. Was fine-ish when Dick was younger. Didn't help him in the healthiest way but eh. Still emotionally constipated but that happened more so after Dick left and Jason died. Started getting better when Tim came back but was still closed off. Should probably go to therapy with the kids so they can drag his ass about all the things he's done that have actually affected them negatively. Understands his mistakes and is also able to admit when he's wrong, eventually. It's not easy but he starts to do better and learns to be more emotionally available. Still has to get chewed out by Alfred sometimes but definitely better than he used to be and it shows. Reconciliation is slow and gradual but progress is made for everyone involved.
The one's I personally avoid for my own sanity and wellbeing:
Think Bruce is a complete bastard and abuser. Want him to choke. Hate any and all interpretations of him. Some of which will refuse to understand how anyone could have a different interpretation. Will point out comics where, in all fairness, he is a dick but forget that characterisation can significantly differ from one series to the next, as comic characters are constantly passed around to different writers and have been for decades. Not to mention movies, shows, etc.
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HELP??? (REGARDING THAT ONE GUY IN UR CHATOT POST)
USERS WHEN CHATOT HAS TO GIVE THE GOVERNMENT MONEY SO THE GUILD DOESNT GO BANKRUPT/FALL APART
LIKE??? Ik our views on chatot are different (WHICH IS COOL I DO ENJOY UR PERSPECTIVE ON THE BIRD) but HUH?? WHAT IS BRO GOING ON ABOUT.
YEAH!! like i don't mind people not liking him if he's just not their thing (if i had a nickel for every bitchy gay bird man in a nintendo game that i liked i'd have two nickels) or if people found the perfect apple incident triggering in any way and it ruined his character for them and i fully respect yours and other people's opinions on that but hating him just for doing his job and arguing against plain text stated in the game is unreal GSGEHEJJSJEJE
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Name: « does my bf hate me and want to breakup with me or is he just busy/asleep » disorder
Symptoms may include but are not limited to:
Self harm urges
Suicidal ideation
Self loathing, self hate, self disgust
Short and intense hatred of your most beloved
The urge to breakup even tho all is going well
Emptiness that makes you feel physically sick, like something was ripped from inside your body
Generalised sadness
Note: a normal mood will return almost as soon as the missing person is online again
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Life captured in a painting.
I saw more people today, they came by to see the room. The same room everyone comes to see. I watched them briskly walk past all the silent painting and watching candles, they paid no mind to the dust and spiders, they never do, after all. A single goal in mind, they came to see the rusted beds, i'm sure. They all do. Countless pulled towards us by a never ending curiousity. Yet none ever leave. A shame, really. All those bodies have so many uses besides to carry one's mind from awful place to calm, serene dreams.
The light flickers everynow and then, it always has since that day... Well, no point in reminding oneself of things long since purposely forgotten. I don't know why. I never did. They kept me in the dark to stumble and fall, only to join me once they outlived the only usefulness they once had.
Everything was so much simpler when we used candles to light up the halls, back then the painting frames weren't so faded and the paint still held it's vibrant colors. Ah, but alas time eats away even at the most humble of hands.
Once the man died and our house fell into chaos and apathy, once we lost all we had left, then and only then did we realize that we witnessed the end of a bloodline. Years passed with no light, no human contact, and quickly, life as we knew it changed. Mankind has come so far from the last time our family ate together during Christmas, oh but i guess it's to be expected.
Now, we sit wordlessly, watching men and women gape in awe at our beauty. We watch them walk down the ancient, moth eaten rug in the hall, desperate to look at as much as they can. It's always been like this, visitors always looked around awestruck, never quite grasping all we had to sacrifice to obtain all this gold tinted bronze.
They never saw beneath the lies. They never realized. They never knew that our family, entire generations of lives lost to illness and war, was built on fickle lies, ones that would shatter like glass at the softest of touches.
Ignorance is bliss, and in some cases, it is all that stands between a life of luxury and a death of misery and regret.
Is that how they all died? In agony and longing? Longing for a better life? A second chance? A way to undo all the hurt and envy they caused to people that didn't deserve it? Not that we weren't without fault, of course. We always where too quick to judge, too quick to kill in the name of false justice and broken pride. That's how we made our way to the top. That's how it's always been.
Even now, as i watch people dressed in monochromatic tones walk by, strange devices lightning up their hands, i know that i am so much more than them. I've seen so many wonders of nature that their feeble mortal minds wouldn't be able to even comprehend. I've become what i always knew I'd be. Yet, it's so strangely melancholic to watch them freely walk, talking amongst eachother so carelessly, mindlessly laughing at words i can't seem to understand. Oh how i miss being like them.
The scenery before me always changes, the sun sets in such a lovely way, everyday the same yet changing, charming in such a disgusting way. Lives come and go, looking up at us like we're an attraction at a crumbling museum left to rot in it's meaningless sorrows. I, however, am eternal. I will watch a thousand years before i succumb to rot and decay.
For the view behind the picture frame may rot, but as the last of what once was a bloodline of pure power and might, i will last on far longer than the portrait they painted of me in my dying moments.
Some part of me knows they knew what a horrible fate they doomed me to. Some part of me feeds on the hatred they felt for me. Some part of me still feels it, pulsing a soft rhythm inside the now silent paintings.
And i relish in it. It's what kept me alive for so long, is it not?
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