#happy birthday alfred pennyworth

[garpen]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ALFRED AND JASON

🎂🥳🪅🎁🍰🎊🎉✨🧁🎂🥳🪅🎁🍰🎊🎉🧁🎂🥳🪅🎁🍰🎊🎉✨🧁🎂🥳🪅🎁🍰🎊

<<Part 42<< Master List >>TBC>>

[mild-and-hammered]

Sixteen Candles: August 16th, Jason Todd and Alfred Pennyworth’s Birthday

In some ways, it was not dissimilar to the Yahrzeit candle that Bruce lit every year without fail. Bruce, raised Jewish by his mother and then further by a vaguely-agnostic Alfred, who nevertheless kept Martha Wayne’s beliefs alive in her son, never missed a Yahrzeit. Without fail he lit a candle for each of his parents, one on the anniversary of Jason’s death, one, less traditionally, on the anniversary of Harvey’s disfigurement. He and Tim, although mostly Tim, lit one for each of his parents on their separate anniversaries. And so many others. Too many.

Alfred kept his own traditions. Of any bottle of whiskey, although he rarely indulged, he left a little at the end to pour a drink in memory of his brothers-in-arms that hadn’t made it back. He had a piano-tuner care for the baby grand piano every year on Martha’s birthday. Thomas’ white coat, and his first ever name tag that pronounced him Thomas Wayne, MD, had been donated to a museum, but Alfred visited the archive every year to see it, and the staff of the archive knew him well.

The candles were like that.

Alfred couldn’t bring himself to light candles for his own birthday. For one thing, he often joked that it would set off the fire alarm, but really, with so many memorial candles in the Wayne household, lighting them for himself felt morbid.

There were sixteen in a neat row on a loaf of banana bread sitting in the windowsill. The bat clan, new members and old, filtered in for a dinner of takeout that Bruce plated to give Alfred a break. Before they ate, Alfred rose and lit Jason’s birthday candles. He was another year older, but his second grandchild would be sixteen forever. Alfred feared every day, with good cause, that he would outlive his surrogate son. Outliving one of his grandchildren, however, had left a rift somewhere in his soul.

The meal was happy in some ways, and sad in others. By the window the candles burned. Alfred reveled in having what family he could all together and, as his birthday gift, getting along. The candles dropped wax onto their little cardboard holders and the banana bread cooled.

At midnight, when it was just a few of them in the kitchen, standing and chatting with mugs of tea, Alfred blew them out, one by one.

[kikipancakes]

August 16

---------------

Last year's drawing (x)

[nachtart]

One Last Birthday

[magnoliasandarson]

birthday wishes

When Dick Grayson turned eight, all he wanted to do was skip ahead to his tenth birthday. He wiggled out of his mom’s arms, practically vibrating on his feet as he watched the rainbow-colored birthday cake get lowered onto the table. A year prior, after so much pestering and whining, his dad finally caved and promised that when he turned ten, Dick could go out and perform solo. Standing at the table, all of Haly’s gathered around singing; he closed his eyes, blew out the candles, and wished to be ten already. 

The following year, Dick Grayson couldn’t move from his bed, paralyzed by grief. He stayed under his ridiculously soft blanket and sobbed until he couldn’t breathe. When he surfaced from his room, still cocooned in a plush throw, Alfred and Bruce were waiting in the kitchen, a small cake held between them. As emotionally inept as he was, Bruce smiled and offered a quiet, “Happy birthday, chum,” and was rewarded with an armful of a once again sobbing child. Eventually, the tears stopped, and, with Bruce and Alfred awkwardly harmonizing, he blew out his candles and wished to stop being so sad.

Four years and four quiet birthdays later, new faces were finally around the table in Wayne Manor. Dick grinned over at his team, his friends, his chosen family. Wally, Donna, Babs, Roy, and Garth. All five smiled back boldly, proudly shoving a frankly disastrous-looking slab of what could be cake his way. When Bruce and Alfred’s odd singing was joined with five exuberant voices, Dick closed his eyes, smiled wider than he had in five years, and wished to always to have his friends smiling back at him.

Then, with a rush of fighting and living and struggling and failing, Dick turned eighteen. For the first time since he was nine years old, his birthday wasn’t spent at Wayne Manor. Instead, it’s in Bludhaven, where the remnants of his first team and the beginnings of his new team surround him. Wally and Donna pat him on the shoulders, and they ignore the ache that is the absence of their other friends. They smile softly as Kori, Gar, Raven, and Vic attempt to sing at varying speeds and pitches. Dick closes his eyes, feeling more than a bit too old and a little bittersweet as he wishes to hold on to these people, please.

Four years later, Dick is done with his birthday. He finds a rooftop and ignores the buzz of his phone. He’s twenty-two. Dick sits and watches the sunset and tries desperately to remember faces that are starting to fade around the edges in his mind. Parents, team-mates, friends, brothers... Nightwing doesn’t run the city that night, no, the great hero ends up sitting on the floor in front of a wall of photos, eyes tracing beloved features even as tears slowly trickle down his face. Without celebration, without intention, he wishes to be happy again.

[nova-lunosi]

🎉🎉🎉

[imafuckingasshole]

Happy birthday to Jason and Alfred!!

[squishykitty825]

Dead Inside

Jason couldn't remember the last time he'd felt truly alive.

Physically, he was alive. Legally, he was dead. To his friends and family, he was alive. But to himself...

Words etched deeply into gray stone glared out at him. The markings of a boy, once so full of the magic of Robin until his untimely demise at the hands of a madman, engraved by a grieving father who couldn't even admit to himself that what he'd lost was a son.

Deep clouds of storm gray hovered ominously above him, the constant rumbling of the rolling thunder threatening to make them spill at any moment. Any wild animals had already taken shelter in their various hiding spots to wait out the oncoming downpour. No light peeked through the thick clouds from the waxing gibbous moon that hung among the stars in the sky.

It was late enough that his family was on patrol, well, most of them at least. No doubt Alfred was still awake somewhere in the Manor.

A bitter wind rustled the leaves of the trees scattered around the small enclosure that was the Wayne family graveyard. Goosebumps erupted on Jason's skin, reminding him of his lack of shirt.

He didn't remember getting up and coming out here. The last thing he did remember was a viscous memory disguised as a nightmare leaving him tossing feverishly in his sleep before jolting awake. Then he was outside. Staring at his own grave. In nothing but sweatpants and bandages, courtesy of Alfred (and also the reason he was benched from patrol). He knew he should probably go back inside, but something had brought him out and he didn't particularly feel like trying to wrestle in anymore sleep.

The touch of rain beginning to fall sparsely down from the sky cooled his heated skin, a side effect of the fever he'd gotten from an infected wound. Alfred would likely lock him away for life if he saw him standing there in the rain. But he couldn't find it in himself to move.

Memories sharp as shattered glass scraped his mind as he continued to stare at the headstone. Endless laughter echoed louder than the memory of screaming so loud it nearly tore his vocal cords.

Maybe that was the last time he'd felt alive. In the moments just before the explosion. Just before discovering his mother was a cold-hearted traitor. Before he'd ever found out that Catherine hadn't been his real mother. When he was Robin. That was when he'd last felt alive.

Sure, the Lazarus Pit had brought him back to life, but what was there to live for if you don't feel alive.

The soft sound of a footfall behind him alerted him to Bruce's presence. Jason didn't move. Didn't so much as flinch.

Not until Bruce was standing next to him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder and saying, "Happy Birthday, Jay."

Jason didn't need to check his watch to know that midnight had just passed. The distant sound of the old clocktower chimed in the air, reaching his ears even from so far away.

It didn't feel right. Getting older. When he should still be dead. Then again, maybe he was dead, just not on the outside.

Maybe he was only dead inside.

[albi-finch-blog]

I love this man, he deserves better, ❤️ ♥️

[august0bone]

Happy birthday to my amazing grandfather/butler, Alfred pennyworth, thank you for keeping my family together and happy to Jason too I guess

[soulless-bex]

at first when Jason rejoined the Batfam, he spent his birthdays alone with Alfred cuz spending them with the whole family was way too much overwhelming for him but he can’t say no to Alfred to save his life.

[choccy-mllk]

[momachan]

Batman Family (1975-1978) #11. "Surprise! Surprise!"

Happy birthday, Bruce Wayne! 🥳

[martyrbat]

detective comics #833

[ID: a party for Bruce Wayne's ninth birthday! It's his first birthday after his parents were brutally murdered in front of him. For the very special day, a magician is standing on a platform stage and performing a card trick as a crowd watches him. The magician announces, “And as we see, Tommy's card has risen to the top of the deck.” Collections of red, white, and blue party balloons decorate the scene and the number nine is written on one of them. For more environmental storytelling, behind the magician, Zatara, is a vibrant yellow banner that says ‘happy birthday Bruce!’ as Bruce is no where to be seen.

Bruce, as an adult, reflects on the memory and of his relationship with the magician's daughter, Zatanna: ‘I have a checkered history with Zatanna and her family. Before we were born, our fathers worked together on many children's charities. After Zatara became a father himself, he was always willing to do benefit performances to help children in need. Any child.’

At the party, Alfred is talking to Zatara after his performance is over and as the crowd disperses. Alfred tells him, “My thanks again, Mr. Zatara, for entertaining the children.” Zatara warmly responds, “Anything for Thomas and Martha. I was so fond of them. This first year must be terrible for poor Bruce.” The butler-turnt-guardian sighs and agrees, “Indeed. I thought a party might cheer him up, but it appears he's moved beyond childhood diversions.”

He continues to express his concerns and says, “I doubt he'll ever be a child again.” But oblivious to him, a young girl attending the party has overheard him and is now walking off to go find the birthday boy! She finds Bruce sitting with his knees drawn up amongst a small strip of woods next to a river. He stares into the water remorseful before looking over his shoulder with a scowl at the approaching girl. He tells her, “The party's back there.” But she doesn't leave. Bruce starts to sharply repeat himself but she holds up a single finger to stop him. Silently, Zatanna presents a shiny quarter in her concerningly small palm.

She swipes her open hand over the coin to reveal it's disappeared! She mimes a shrug as Bruce watches with disgruntlement before he tries to swat her hands away as Zatanna reaches for his ear! “Yeah, I know. The coin is behind...” But his exasperation is replaced with a small, surprised laugh as Zatanna suddenly blows large bubbles instead! He smiles and closes his eyes as he asks her how did she do that — but when he opens his eyes, she's suddenly gone!

Bruce returns to the party, now having a small smile as he stands alone and looks at Zatanna. Behind him a bunch of kids are playing as she sits in the foreground of the panel – unaware of Bruce's enamored stare. In present time, Bruce thinks to himself, ‘Years later Zatara trained me to become an escape artist, and I came to know Zatanna better through The Justice League. There are times I think we should be closer than we are, but...’ END ID]

[ID: Zatanna, now an adult, is bleeding out after The Joker shot her in her throat. She's underwater and is staring out to a restrained Batman, who can only watch in anguish as yet another person he loves dies in front of him. In front of her, blood mixes into the water as oxygen bubbles float in front of her dying face. Bruce has a flashback to the above scene of when they were kids and how she performed the bubble magic trick to make him laugh. END ID]

[undertheredhood]

happy birthday to my fav dc character, jason todd! i really hope he gets better writers soon!

[justanothervigalanty]

sorry it’s late but happy birthday Alfred and Jason 🎂🥳