#happy birthday alfred pennyworth

[garpen]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ALFRED AND JASON

🎂🥳🪅🎁🍰🎊🎉✨🧁🎂🥳🪅🎁🍰🎊🎉🧁🎂🥳🪅🎁🍰🎊🎉✨🧁🎂🥳🪅🎁🍰🎊

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

[prlssprfctn]

On Bruce's birthday, Jason gifts him a self-made intellectual game in a "resolve this case" style that contains a secret prize. And Bruce? Bruce loves it. He always likes resolving mysteries (you have no idea how many times he reread Sherlock Holmes and Agatha Christi) and it is finally so refreshing to work on something... fun and not threatening others' lives! And there will be another prize as a reward? That's great! Brilliant, even.

The problem? Bruce absolutely overthinks the whole thing and instead of finding an obvious answer, he starts plotting insane theories and spiralling in the rabbit hole.

Jason, slightly anxious but hopeful: So, had you resolved it? Did you find what was the victim's last words? Bruce, running on 55 cups of coffee, with a mischievous glint in his eyes: Oh, Jaylad, don't even start. I am thinking between the theory regarding Russian spies and involvement of Epstein. Jason, double-checking his father's state, with smile switching on growl: What.

Bruce is so entertained and sucked into the drama of the fake case that he doesn't even realise that Jason is awfully close to throwing the whole tantrum. Because he didn't just put all his heart into this stupid surprise answer for Bruce to went in a complete opposite direction???

Dick, amused: He is so distracted that he refused going patrolling today and sent us. I can't. This is hilarious. Jason, kicking rocks in frustration: I might as well kill Joker while he is at it. He probably won't even notice. Damian: So, Todd, what is the secret surprise that you are so... hysterical? Jason: Nothing! It is nothing! I don't care! Tim, who looked at the case once and figured the answer out instantly: Yeah, buddy, that's rough.

Jason, a one week after, sitting on the tea ceremony with Alfred: Let me guess, old man is still hadn't figured out the mystery behind the case? Alfred: I am afraid he went... slightly aboard with the capacity of his imagination, master Jason. Now, if you allow me to ask... What was the surprise hidden in the victim's last words? Jason, sniffling: It was supposed to be "I love you, Dad. Can I return home?" Alfred: Alfred: You want to say that I could have my grandson back home a week ago, and we could already arrange and decorate you a new room, and have you over on every dinner, if your father wasn't this... complicated? Jason: Uh, I guess? Jason: Also, why did you just call him my father and not master Bruce... Alfred, standing up to take a riffle: Right now he is not my master. Just your father. Jason: Uh, Alfie????

[kikipancakes]

August 16

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

Last year's drawing (x)

[random-sparks-98]

*please don't repost

[blaqcats-fics]

unfortunately, i usually don't keep track of birthdays specifically in fandoms. so, imagine my shock when i found out that i share a birthday with bruce wayne (feb 19) — based on silverage and modern-age Batman. it is also a shock that i also just found out this man is a pisces. so in honor of both of our birthdays, here’s just a fun little skit!!

It starts with a podcast.

Tim’s the one who’s listening to it, earbuds in, looking for background noise while he codes. He barely registers the conversation until he hears the words:

“You know who gives me serious Pisces energy? Batman.”

Tim blinks. Rewinds. Listens again.

“I mean, think about it. Secretive? Brooding? Carries the weight of the world on his shoulders but refuses to talk about his feelings? Classic water sign behavior. Probably cries in the Batmobile.”

Tim immediately forwards the clip to the family group chat.

Steph is the first to react.

Steph: HOLY SHIT WAIT IS BRUCE A PISCES??

Damian: Don’t be ridiculous.

Steph: NO. THIS MAKES SENSE.

Steph: Moody. Overdramatic. Keeps adopting kids for no reason other than his feelings?? Classic Pisces.

Dick: If Bruce is a Pisces, that would explain SO MUCH.

Damian: This is stupid. He doesn’t even believe in astrology.

Steph: Because he’s a Pisces and doesn’t want to be perceived.

Dick: Wait when is his birthday again??

Tim double-checks. Then he stares at the date.

Tim: …Feburary 19th.

Silence.

Then:

Steph: OH MY GOD.

Dick: OH MY GOD.

Damian: This means nothing.

Jason: No. No. It means EVERYTHING.

—

When Jason jumps on board, things escalate.

Because Jason starts compiling evidence.

“Think about it,” he tells Dick later that night. “He’s moody as hell. He broods. He internalizes everything. He loves tragedy. I bet you anything he listens to sad music while doing patrol.”

Dick, who has personally witnessed Bruce listen to Chopin while looking out over Gotham like he’s in a Victorian novel, has no counterargument.

—

Alfred’s reaction is the worst.

“Master Bruce is, indeed, a Pisces,” he says when asked. “It explains quite a bit, I’ve always thought.”

Bruce is right there.

He looks up from his paperwork, eyes narrowed. “It doesn’t explain anything.”

“Of course, sir.” Alfred’s voice is as dry as the Batcave itself. “It is mere coincidence that you have the emotional repression of a particularly stubborn fish.”

—

Now that they know, they start noticing everything.

“He’s so sentimental,” Steph says, watching Bruce silently look at the Bat-Signal with his arms crossed. “Like. Deeply sentimental. I bet he has an old love letter tucked away somewhere that he rereads when he’s feeling tragic.”

Jason hums. “He does keep Selina’s notes.”

Tim gasps.

“Oh my god,” Dick whispers. “He’s the most Pisces to ever Pisces.”

—

The final straw is when Cass catches Bruce watching a French noir film in the dark with a glass of scotch.

She takes a picture.

It’s sent to the group chat immediately.

Cass: Look at this. Look at him.

Tim: That is the most Pisces shit I’ve ever seen.

Jason: He’s mourning a past life rn.

Steph: He’s thinking about his tragic love affairs. Probably wishing he could save them.

Dick: He’s gonna write poetry about it later.

Damian: All of you need to be stopped.

—

Eventually, Bruce notices.

Because of course he does.

“What,” he says, standing in the middle of the Batcave, staring at them like they’ve personally betrayed him, “is happening?”

Nobody speaks.

Then Damian, who has had enough, scowls and says, “They have been discussing your astrological sign.”

Bruce blinks.

“They are also keeping a list of your most Pisces-like behaviors.”

Jason immediately hurls a smoke bomb to escape.

It doesn’t end there.

—

A week later, Clark drops by.

“I heard you were a Pisces,” he says, grinning.

Bruce throws a batarang at him.

[nachtart]

One Last Birthday

[ghurab-alzilal]

Damian, tries to turn on the light in the Batcave but the switch doesn't work : What the he- *looks out of the corner of his eye at many lumps coming out of their hiding place and throwing themselves at him *

*sounds of a legendary beating *

Damian: *stops his attack suddenly *

Raven, holding a cake, Damian's sword pointed at her throat : HAPPY-...

Batfamily, knocked out on the floor : ... birthday~

Alfred (Pennyworth) , turning on the light : It seems that a surprise party for Master Damian wasn't the best of ideas, Miss Roth.

[nova-lunosi]

🎉🎉🎉

[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.

[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

[momachan]

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

Happy birthday, Bruce Wayne! 🥳

[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.

[undertheredhood]

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