#SuperBatFandom

[athenanfaymont]

On the Eyes of Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent: The Windows to Their Souls 🌟🦇🦸‍♂️

There’s something about eyes. I’m not talking about just their color or the way they shine in certain light, but the depth behind them. With Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent, their eyes tell you everything about who they are — even when they’re hiding behind a mask or a pair of glasses.

🦇 Bruce Wayne’s eyes are a perfect reflection of Gotham’s darkness. They’re haunted, sharp, always calculating. When Bruce looks at you, it’s not just seeing — it’s assessing. Those eyes have witnessed trauma, pain, and a kind of isolation that leaves its mark. His gaze is always vigilant, always looking for threats, always burdened by the weight of his past and the city he’s sworn to protect. In everything Bruce does, there’s a calculation.

But that’s not what’s most interesting.

No, it’s what you see when he lets his guard down — just a little bit. A fleeting look, a slight softness when he's with those he trusts (whether it’s Alfred, Dick, or even Clark). You can catch it if you pay attention. And it’s in those rare moments that his eyes show something other than the hardened vigilante: humanity.

🦸‍♂️ Clark Kent, on the other hand, has eyes that shine with warmth and hope. His gaze is steady, filled with the optimism that makes him who he is. His eyes have seen the best in humanity, even if the world has tried to make him doubt it. Clark’s kindness isn’t just about how he acts — it’s embedded in the way he looks at people. When he looks at someone, it’s like he’s already forgiving them for their mistakes.

He looks at the world with the belief that it can be better, that people can change, that love can win.

But, as much as his eyes reflect hope, they also hide a burden. There is a weight behind that kindness. There’s the pressure of being everything to everyone. He’s not just the hero, he’s the moral compass, and sometimes that becomes a lonely place to stand.

🌧️ Maybe that’s why Bruce’s eyes are more gray than blue. Not because they’re clouded or dim, but because they’ve been tempered by Gotham’s harshness. They’ve absorbed the grit, the shadows, and the unrelenting weight of a city that never lets you forget its darkness. His eyes aren’t just a reflection of what he’s seen, but of the battles he’s fought and lost.

☀️ Meanwhile, Clark’s eyes are a bright, hopeful blue — like the open skies of Kansas. They’re clear, unclouded by the world’s cynicism. His gaze reflects a life shaped by the warmth of family, by the wide, open spaces of his childhood, and by the belief that the world can be better.

Together, these two are often seen as opposites: Bruce, the man shaped by pain, distrust, and tragedy. Clark, the man of hope, compassion, and unshakable faith. But when you look into their eyes, there’s a shared burden. A shared humanity. And it’s in the moments where their gazes meet — whether it’s in silent understanding or in battle — that we see just how connected they truly are.

The eyes, truly, are the windows to the soul.

And Bruce and Clark? Well, their souls couldn’t be more different, and yet, they share something undeniably real.

[Paulo Siqueira]

[athenanfaymont]

The Tragedy of Tim Drake: the Robin who imposed himself

Tim Drake’s story isn’t just one of a boy stepping into a legacy, not a fallen one, not a replacement, but a boy who chose to become Robin because he believed in what Robin stood for. He didn’t fall into the mantle: he claimed it. And that, in a world of inherited roles and tragic accidents, already sets him apart.

👨‍👩‍👦 Tim's Family, the Ghosts of His Past Tim Drake was never truly seen by his parents, not until it was almost too late. His father, Jack, was distant, and his mother, who tragically passed away, left a void that Tim tried to fill with his intellect and drive. But what’s more tragic than being neglected as a child is being recognized only when you’ve stopped needing that recognition — when Tim had already begun to build new bonds, to find care and purpose elsewhere. That’s when Jack tried to pull him back. Not because he finally understood him, but because he was afraid of losing what he never properly held.

At that moment, it wasn’t just a father’s jealousy over another man taking his place. It was a father who couldn’t see the child he had neglected, only recognizing Tim when it felt like his identity was being rewritten by someone else.

🦇 A Substitute for Jason, but Never Jason Tim didn’t get the luxury of being the first Robin. He wasn’t a legacy, and his connection to Batman was never formed out of mutual understanding or shared trauma like Dick or Jason. He was a replacement for Jason Todd, whose death had left an unhealed wound in Bruce’s heart. But Tim? He was just another boy with a talent for detective work, another cog in a machine that had already been turned several times before.

And he wasn’t even the Robin Bruce adopted. Not the heart-son that Jason became in life and death — even when Tim was left truly orphaned, and in the most traumatic of ways.

He doesn’t have the history Dick shares with Bruce, and he certainly doesn’t have the bloodline Damian boasts.

🌑 A Usurper to Damian, Always in the Shadow If being a replacement for Jason wasn’t enough, Tim also had to face Damian Wayne — a son of Bruce’s blood, a boy who wasn’t just a Robin by choice but by inheritance. To Damian, Tim wasn’t just another member of the Bat-family; he was a usurper, someone who had been given a place he didn’t deserve. Damian, with all his arrogance and entitlement, made Tim’s position feel fragile at best. There was always this unspoken tension — Damian with his blood right, Tim with his intellectual cunning.

To Damian, Tim was nothing more than the second Robin. A placeholder for Bruce's "real" son. And what makes this even more tragic is how little recognition Tim gets from his own family.

💔 Bruce, the Father Who Can't Love (Enough) But the deepest tragedy lies in Bruce himself. Bruce Wayne loves Tim, there’s no doubt about it, but he doesn’t know how to express it. He doesn’t know how to show it. And Tim, who has spent his whole life being neglected, can’t read Bruce’s affection the way Dick or even Jason could. Unlike those who saw Bruce’s gruffness as a sign of his love, Tim doesn’t have the luxury of knowing that Bruce cares. He has no emotional cushion to protect him from Bruce’s inability to express his feelings, and it leaves him feeling more alone than ever.

He’s the Robin who isn’t needed. He’s the Robin who imposed himself. The one who loved the idea of Robin more than anyone else. And the only one who was never chosen to be Robin.

Maybe that says more about what Robin truly is than any other child who’s worn the mask. Maybe that’s what makes Tim the closest to the spirit of “I Am Robin” — the movement that came after, born from choice, belief, and conviction rather than legacy or blood.

Is it because of all this that Tim has had more emotional development in fandom than in many of his current comic runs? Probably.

And yes — he has beautiful moments of being loved by his family. His coming out is one of them, tender and true and long overdue. He is loved, and well loved, in many stories.

But today, I wanted to sit with the pain. To look at the anguish in his journey. Because that is also Tim Drake. And he deserves to be seen in full.

[Riley Rossmo]