The Biggest “your Experiences Are Not Universal” Thing I Feel Is Whenever Anyone Talks About The

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This actually happened btw

DICK GRAYSON MY KING IM SO SORRY FOR WHAT THEYVE DONE TO YOU

...ok?

Currently swayed into the ‘Believe it or not, living with a British guy for decades WILL give Bruce an accent’ bandwagon.

It'd be so cute if it only slips out when Bruce does. He maintains a silence to Batman, when he prowls, — because Gotham isn't a gentle animal, so he can't be, either, — the lesser the chances to be recognized by voice, the better.

Nonetheless, talking can't be avoided forever. Especially not when dealing with scared people that have to be reassured.

“You know we’re basically CPS for adults, right?”

“Except we do our jobs.”

Martinez looks up at the sky, biting back a cackle, because he’ll be DAMNED if he laughs at this freak’s jokes. “I hate it when you're funny.”

He’s positive Batman frowns in confusion because he tilts his head, emulating a confused dog. “I’m not trying to be.”

“Oh, go FUCK yourself.”

Batman isn't interested in continuing their benter, much too busy with the crying child in the waiting room at the station. She's the tiniest witness there.

He must be the only vigilante carrying lollipops next to paralyzing gas.

The cadence in his voice simply burns off any dark intention associated with him. But if you listen as closely as Martinez does, you'll hear a poised arch in his accent.

“Here you go, love. Shall I get you a choccy while we talk to your father?”

Martinez sits and blinks for about a minute, which should earn him a record of some short.

remember kids

Artist 🎨: @vhsdogs

GAHH GAHH GAHH YES YES YES THEYRE BOTH AWFUL AND EVIL AND SO SO HUMAN I LOVE THEMMM

Bruce is very good at taking care of his own problems. He’s always been very good at it. Adults praise him for it all the time.

But then his parents died, and Bruce feels like he can’t do anything right. He knows he can’t. After all, if he was as good as adults said he was, then he could’ve saved his parents.

He should’ve been able to save his parents.

There is a darkness growing within him. Bruce doesn’t know what to do.

——

Alfred is grieving. Alfred is grieving, and he is also very angry.

He was just a butler; why is he now taking care of his deceased employer’s child? It’s not like the Waynes don’t have any other alive family branches, like the Kanes. But no, Thomas and Martha’s will clearly stated that if anything happened to them, Bruce would stay with Alfred in the Wayne Manor.

Now he’s forced to take care of a child he never wanted. How is that fair?

——

Alfred is angry all the time now but not in the way he used to be. Bruce knows it’s because of him. Every time the older man looks at him, he gets this strange look in his eyes.

Bruce can feel that it’s a bad look.

Maybe it’s because he’s even more useless now? It’s hard to get out of bed, but it’s even harder to fall asleep.

Loud noises make him jump, and the only thing he can think about is Mommy and Daddy hitting the floor, over and over and over and over and—

Alfred accidentally dropped something in the kitchen. Bruce doesn’t really remember what happened; it gets blurry and makes his head hurt to think about it, but the next thing he knows he hears screaming.

Bruce is pretty sure it’s coming from him. It sounds like Mommy’s.

——

The kid has a hair trigger. Alfred feels like walking on eggshells. Every small thing sends him into a raging meltdown.

Several times he has to stop himself from packing a bag and escaping in the middle of the night, fleeing back to England just so things could be normal.

Bruce doesn’t even talk anymore. Before the Waynes died, little Bruce talked almost nonstop in the manor.

Now an eerie quiet fills the space unless the small boy decides to have nightmares or another breakdown.

His silence is unnerving and creepy.

——

Bruce misses hugs.

Alfred doesn’t like being touched, not one bit. Mommy and Daddy loved hugging him and kissing him and just picking him up for funsies. But now no one will touch him.

Maybe it’s because they know he killed his parents. Maybe they think that if they touch Bruce, they’ll die too?

Bruce wouldn’t be too surprised…

It’s been months. Bruce doesn’t know why he isn’t better yet, why he keeps making problems for Alfred, why he’s so different now…

——

Alfred had calmed down a lot. He partially understands why the Waynes have left Bruce in his care; that doesn’t make it any easier.

Bruce has always been a particular child. Alfred would get him tested, but high society talks, and he doesn’t want to subject the young boy to even more press coverage.

Besides, what can a shrink do for the young master? Nothing hard work can’t teach him. Alfred worked through all his problems like that, and he turned out perfectly fine.

——

Bruce doesn’t want to start going to galas again…

Mr. Mauter always gives him strange looks, and now that Daddy isn’t here to give an excuse to pull him away, he’s even more afraid.

But Bruce is supposed to be fixing his own problems now. Alfred already does too much for him; he can see how exhausted he’s making him.

He’s the man of the house now. He has to be strong.

——

Master Bruce is talking again, even if it looks like it visibly pains him. Alfred is taking it slowly. Each day he finds he has more and more patience.

He allows the small child to follow him around as he completes his daily chores; he’s yet to acknowledge it yet. The first time he said something, Bruce scampered away quickly, and it took a week for him to start doing it again.

He’s taking it slow. He doesn’t want Bruce to be afraid to ask him for help anymore.

No hugs yet, but Alfred allows himself to pat Master Bruce on the shoulder.

——

Bruce can make cookies now! Alfred taught him the most perfect way ever!

They were Daddy’s most favorite cookies. Bruce feels a painful pang in his chest as he thinks about it, something that has happened very often in the past year.

Instead of crying, because Bruce is a big boy now, he walks up the hill at the back of the manor where Mommy and Daddy now rest peacefully.

Bruce lays down two of his best cookies on a nice napkin on Daddy’s grave.

He knows Mommy wouldn’t let Daddy get hungry in heaven, but it’s always a good idea to have a nice snack just in case.

——

Alfred distances himself.

He’s getting too attached. He’s now constantly reminding himself, Master Bruce, that he is nothing more than a butler.

——

Bruce had a fever.

He was delirious, and he accidentally called Alfred Dad.

Alfred no longer looks him in the eyes.

The darkness creeps in; it is all-consuming.

——

Alfred feels bad.

He catches Master Bruce practicing his smiles in the mirror, doing his best to look normal.

It’s fine. He needs to work him harder, make him understand that he can’t show weakness. Bruce will thank him when he’s older, when he is stronger, when he is better.

Alfred turns around and pretends not to see. The next time Bruce gives him that smile, he looks like Martha and tells him that he’s fine; Alfred does not argue.

——

Bruce can see that Alfred has stopped trying with him. It hurts, but he also wonders why it didn’t happen sooner.

He drops out of school.

He can’t be a doctor, not like his father was. He’s not worthy.

Gotham is his home. It’s always been his home. But right now? It feels more suffocating than ever.

——

Alfred finds them tucked away neatly in Bruce’s desk, right next to a half empty box of razors.

He reads each and every letter, his heart growing heavier when he realizes how many years ago it started.

Each letter starts the same, always addressing Alfred and saying it’s not his fault.

He holds two identical letters in his hands.

One, only a week after the incident. The second one, dated yesterday.

Alfred puts them back and never speaks about it. He can feel the guilt crawling up his throat and trying to choke him.

He knows Bruce knows.

They never speak about it.

——

Bruce knows he is evil. There is only darkness within him. He is destined to hurt and destroy the people around him.

He has to figure out a way to contain it, to keep it deep inside before he ruins everything.

Bruce only leaves a note when he goes. It is barely two sentences. Where is he going? He doesn’t know.

The entire world is open to him.

Let’s talk about translations of the Odyssey for a second, because, honestly, I’m over here sobbing over how ridiculous some of these choices are.

Every time I pick up a new translation, I hope it’ll finally capture the true grit and messiness of Odysseus, but nope, every one of them polishes him up too much, turning him into either a tragic hero or a charming rogue. Where’s the Odysseus who lies as easily as he breathes, who manipulates his way through every encounter, and who leaves a trail of ruin wherever he goes? I want the man whose brilliance is as sharp as his selfishness, whose cleverness cuts both ways — not just a hero, but a survivor who’s as flawed as he is formidable.

Anyway, I’m gonna break down the biggest mistranslations that really make me want to pull my hair out and remind everyone how different the original Greek actually is. Prepare yourselves.

Let’s start with the absolute disaster that is Telemachus and Peisistratus’ bond. Homer used the word ὁμοφροσύνη to describe their relationship, a term that’s about fucking soulmates, alright? But what do these translators do? They water it down to “just good friends” or “nice companions.” It’s about a relationship where minds and hearts are aligned — telepathic level shit, not just a handshake between two dudes. Yet these translators just gloss over the whole thing, so you get this milquetoast version of their relationship when it’s actually so much more.

Homer says: "ὁμοφροσύνησιν ἐνὶ καρδίᾳ ἐνθα καὶ ἄλλων οὐδὲν ἐπέλθομεν" ("In like-mindedness of heart, where no other man could compare.") So, Telemachus sees Peisistratus as someone he’s totally aligned with, in a way that’s almost romantic in its depth. ὁμοφροσύνη is usually used for romantic couples most often.

Then, we’ve got Odysseus and Calypso, which — oh my god, don’t even get me started on this absolute trainwreck of a translation. The term ἀνάγκῃ is used when Homer talks about Odysseus’ “relationship” with Calypso, but translators somehow miss the force behind the word. It doesn’t just mean “necessity” like they’d have you think. It means force, violence, and distress. When Odysseus is on Calypso’s island, stuck there with her, it’s not this peaceful love story where Odysseus is some willing lover. It’s a prison. There’s no choice, and no one’s riding off into the sunset together. But translations just gloss over this desperation and make it sound so much more peaceful and comfortable than it ever was. It’s forced captivity, and the use of ἀνάγκῃ screams that: “ἔνθα μὲν ἀμφ᾽ ἀνάγκῃ, τῇ δὲ θεὰ ἐρῶσά μιν ἔσχε.” (“There he stayed out of necessity, for the goddess, in her love, held him there.”).

Homer uses the same word when Odysseus describes his time with Circe: “ἀλλ᾽ ἔμεν᾽ ἐν σπέσσι λαῶν ἀνάγκῃ.” (“But I stayed in her halls by necessity.”). Again, ἀνάγκῃ shows that Odysseus's relationship with Circe is dictated by forces beyond his control. His connection to her isn’t out of love or desire, but out of a divine obligation, a situation where choice is completely stripped away. It’s not love; it’s divine manipulation. So much for romantic freedom!

And let’s not forget how Homer actually portrays the suitors and their reaction to Antinous’ violence. After Antinous, in his full rage, decides to throw a chair at disguised Odysseus, other suitors chime in, disapproving of his actions. They say things like “ἀργὸς εἶναι,” which roughly translates to “you’re acting cowardly,” and “ἀτασθαλία,” meaning “reckless.” They’re still on the same side, sure, but they can’t quite get behind the utter savagery of his actions, and it’s maddening how this detail is often glossed over in some translations. They make it sound like they were all in on the violence, but in the original text, these suitors are not all cut from the same brutal cloth, no matter how much some translators want to make them seem like one big mob.

Homer uses the word οἰκέτες to refer to the people in Odysseus' house. "οἰκέτες" means slaves, people who are literally owned by the household. But oh, what happens in the translations? We get “maids” and “servants,” as if these slaves were just there because they wanted to be, doing chores like it was a normal job. But no, they’re not “maids,” and they sure as hell aren't "servants" in the modern sense. These people have no freedom — they belong to Odysseus. The translation of οἰκέτες as "maids" completely erases the brutality of the system that Homer is talking about.

Interestingly, Telemachus, who is often portrayed as rude or immature, calls these individuals “servants” or "maids" in a more respectful manner. This is the same guy who can barely get his act together most of the time, but here he is, calling the οἰκέτες — slaves, remember — not just slaves but “ἄνδρες ἰκέτες,” which translates to "men-servants" or “butlers.” Like, hello, Telemachus! For once, he’s actually treating them like people instead of just the property that they are in Homer’s original telling. Respectful? Who knew?

And lastly, let’s talk about Penelope. Odysseus, when he finally speaks to her, he says: "ἀλλὰ μὴ ἐπεὶ καὶ σὺ μὲν ἔμπεδος ἐν οἴκῳ, ἔτλησαν δ’ ἐμαὶ ἄλγεα." ("But you, steadfast in your home, endured my sorrows."). Odysseus sees Penelope as the rock, the one who has suffered patiently in his absence. Unlike the goddesses, she’s his equal in suffering, not a forced relationship due to divine will. He longs for her, and her presence stands in stark contrast to the chaotic, imposed relationships he’s had with Circe and Calypso. Penelope is the constant, the one Odysseus has chosen — no divine manipulation, just pure, enduring love.

Anyway, all of this goes to show that translations can twist what Homer was actually trying to say — especially when it comes to the relationships in the story. It’s frustrating to see these critical, subtle moments get flattened into bland, palatable phrases. Maybe if they spent less time trying to make everything sound "noble" and more time actually getting at the grit of what Homer wrote, we wouldn’t have to deal with these watered-down, emotionless versions of The Odyssey that everyone is so obsessed with.

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