Let me assure you, I subscribe to no such niceties.

oldblog-bloodied-hands-of-gotham

Sleep Over?

I've been asked if I were to attend a sleepover what would I bring? Well now a days I would bring the guests of the sleepover to the designated house. I would send them off with snacks of course per the hosts preference and others in attendance. Back in the day with myself and the lads.... I was known to bring the alcohol. It was easy to acquire with my father's level of access at the time. Much frivolity was had those nights.

That explains how Bruce acts the way he does.

oldblog-bloodied-hands-of-gotham

Some. It explains some of his actions. I will not take full responsibility for Brucie Wayne. Some.

Yeahhh, that's probably a smart decision. I don't think anyone wants to take that on much responsibility.

Luckily for Bruce Wayne I am not just anyone.

oldblog-bloodied-hands-of-gotham

Sleep Over?

I've been asked if I were to attend a sleepover what would I bring? Well now a days I would bring the guests of the sleepover to the designated house. I would send them off with snacks of course per the hosts preference and others in attendance. Back in the day with myself and the lads.... I was known to bring the alcohol. It was easy to acquire with my father's level of access at the time. Much frivolity was had those nights.

That explains how Bruce acts the way he does.

#Guess the apple didn't fall too far #alfred answers #Sleepover #dc rp #alfred pennyworth rp #alfred pennyworth

Some. It explains some of his actions. I will not take full responsibility for Brucie Wayne. Some.

Sleep Over?

I've been asked if I were to attend a sleepover what would I bring? Well now a days I would bring the guests of the sleepover to the designated house. I would send them off with snacks of course per the hosts preference and others in attendance. Back in the day with myself and the lads.... I was known to bring the alcohol. It was easy to acquire with my father's level of access at the time. Much frivolity was had those nights.

All Star Batman #14

Rafael Albuquerque & Jordie Bellaire

#A fathers job does not change with time #it does not change with size #children of all ages will need and want support #it's up to the parent to know when to give it and not to smother

@butlerofthecave

When Alfred comes down for his afternoon cup of tea, he finds it already set up and a slice of victoria sponge as well.

There’s a note beside it, in Aurora’s neat cursive.

‘Because you’re always taking care of us - Rory xoxo’

@justanotherwaynekid

Alfred was surprised to see the display in his personal kitchen. At first small alarm bells rang but after reading the note his serious face softened into a gentle smile. "I hope it hasn't gotten cold. Things never run on time in this place." He poured the tea anyway and took a seat at the table allowing himself some peace before dinner and night patrols. Idly looking at a few flyers sent to him by his travel agency. He needed to commit to plans before it was too late.

#alfred answers #dc rp #alfred pennyworth rp #alfred pennyworth rp blog #alfred rp #alfred pennyworth #Small lore drop

So the Batmobile’s got some new scratches, a few dents. But nothing major.

@imnotrobinhood

It wouldn't have anything to do with that 'joyride' you posted about on your blog earlier would it Young Master Jason?

Maaaybee

Do you require education on how to correct these details? It might be wise you know such things in the future.

Just so long as Bruce doesn’t find out

And it doesn’t fit through a drive through

If you took it from the cave and put it back in the cave... he will find out eventually but I'll be down in a moment to help you fix things. . . . You tried to take it through a drive through?

Thanks Alfred..

And yeah, I wanted fries

You will never fail to surprise me. I'll be in the cave soon.

So the Batmobile’s got some new scratches, a few dents. But nothing major.

@imnotrobinhood

It wouldn't have anything to do with that 'joyride' you posted about on your blog earlier would it Young Master Jason?

Maaaybee

Do you require education on how to correct these details? It might be wise you know such things in the future.

Just so long as Bruce doesn’t find out

And it doesn’t fit through a drive through

If you took it from the cave and put it back in the cave... he will find out eventually but I'll be down in a moment to help you fix things. . . . You tried to take it through a drive through?

So the Batmobile’s got some new scratches, a few dents. But nothing major.

@imnotrobinhood

It wouldn't have anything to do with that 'joyride' you posted about on your blog earlier would it Young Master Jason?

Maaaybee

#alfred answers #alfred rp #alfred pennyworth rp #alfred pennyworth rp blog #alfred rp blog #dc rp

Do you require education on how to correct these details? It might be wise you know such things in the future.

So the Batmobile’s got some new scratches, a few dents. But nothing major.

@imnotrobinhood

It wouldn't have anything to do with that 'joyride' you posted about on your blog earlier would it Young Master Jason?

nyukaart

"Master Bruce." A familiar voice sounded at Bruce's bedroom door followed by the familiar knock pattern, the promising scent of food slipping into the man's bedroom. His good and faithful servant Alfred. It had been nearly a month since the requested diet change and since Bruce was not inclined to tell Alfred why. It was now the man's turn to ask. But first he needed to get in the door. ( @butlerofthecave )

Bruce had been dozing, stretched out in the slash of sunshine from the window. Conscious, in the loosest sense of the word, and even at the familiar voice, the rhythm-knock at his door, Bruce roused slowly. Seeping to awareness, Bruce groaned aloud towards the door. A wordless invitation to enter that would be just as familiar to Alfred.

Aware that Alfred would soon come in, and at least interested in the smell of food- perpetual hunger having framed Bruce's life for the past few months -Bruce sat up and stretched his back out, yawning before trying again: "Come in, Alfred."

It had been sometime since Bruce had been diagnosed with 'baby' and as yet, he'd failed to put together the correct words to tell his father figure. Instead, as he often was in such situations, Bruce had been avoidant and off-beat towards Alfred.

The thing Alfred noticed first was the sunlight as he entered. As rare as it was in Gotham it was even more rare Bruce indulged in it's glory. Secondly that Bruce was resting while this is not outside the usual for the man Alfred had been noticing Bruce doing it more and with the request of food adjustments it caused the man to worry. He walked in and over to Bruce presenting the slightly later than normal lunch to the man. A perfect balance of warm and cold offerings that fit the nutrition request. As well as an offering of favored cookies. "Master Bruce." It sounded more stiff than it normally did from the loyal butler. Leaning close to concerned parent about to talk to their teen about missing curfew. "You've made changes to your diet and while I'm happy you've interest in your nutritional care, you've not told me why." Implying Alfred had also been snooping but unsuccessful into uncovering the tracks in the Batcomputer. After this statement he was silent. Silently requesting an answer for the changes he saw happening.

As Alfred entered, Bruce snagged a sleeping robe, entangling himself self-consciously. Showing had been a- recent development -slight, but unmistakable to Bruce's eye. Something he had taken pains to occlude.

He reached out to immediately snag a white chocolate and cranberry cookie. Pausing, Bruce studied Alfred's face momentarily, then bit down into his cookie. He grunted, shifting over to make space, indicating with a hand. There was an even chance if Alfred would take a customary chair, or join Bruce on the bed; it seemed to depend on how concerned Alfred was, or wasn't.

Swallowing, Bruce said glumly, "you should sit down for this."

Frankly, Bruce had wished he had been sitting. He bided his time, drawing it out by finishing the cookie in several swift, voracious bites. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Bruce eyed the ceiling critically, avoiding eye contact before announcing: "So I'm in the family way."

And then as if to underline the point, Bruce fidgeted with the robe to undo his careful disguise work.

Alfred was glad to see Bruce eating but moved to sit on the bed after his son insisted he sit. Alfred had been told so many things from injury, to death, to people going missing standing up that if Bruce was asking him to sit it was very serious. The man was confused when Bruce made the announcement and then began to unrobe as quickly as he had robed up. There it was though a softening in his son's body. "Is this something you want?" Alfred was a mix of things but he'd be asked to sit and his son was hiding from him. Was his son ok? How did this happen? Was it done with consent? Would his body be alright?

Taking a second cookie, Bruce's brow furrowed in troubled thought. Chewing slowly, he shook his head- minutely, but finally. Somewhat hesitant, as he put it to words: "No."

His eyebrows pinched. Frowning down at himself. Mouth twisting uncertainly.

He did not want to be pregnant. Absolutely not. That was increasingly certain. At the least, feeling the sharp edge of his body turn blunt in his grasp was- faintly terrifying, a nauseous loss of control, a growing anguish at once profound and visceral.

This is not who I am. This is not what my body should be. This is no longer home to me.

"...but," Bruce had yet to bite into the cookie, having stilled entirely. Staring down at himself, hesitant, "I do want the baby."

That was just as intense, just as fierce, even more heartfelt for him. The decision to protect regardless of personal consequence, every bit as absolute as it had been for the other children.

He took a bite of cookie, before wringing a shoulder, "...so. I suppose yes. Yes and no."

The man listened carefully. He couldn't imagine being in a position like his son was have to decide what to do with such a choice. It was Bruce's decision and his alone to make.

"And are we following tradition if things go wrong?" Alfred asking if Bruce wanted to be saved or the baby if it came to that. Birth was already a complicated process, let alone a scenario like this.

"And if I may... do you know who the other parent is?" A double edged sword to be a support for his son and someone to blame should anything go wrong.

"I'm sorry you're experiencing this right now. If I can do anything else to help besides the adjustments to your diet please let me know. I experienced your mother's pregnancy. Even if it seems ridiculous please let me help if I can. And listen to your body." Alfred wanted his son as comfortable as he could be made during this process. A worried father but at least it was a worry about something his son did want.

Bruce finished the second cookie, giving Alfred a measured look as he ate slowly. "No," he answered. "If things go wrong, then we save whoever has the best chance of survival." Not exactly tradition which would preserve his life first, but not entirely departed from it.

The next look he gave Alfred was even more careful, sidelong and wary. He cleared his throat, "I haven't told the other father yet."

He had to clear his throat again, before actually answering. "Clark. At least I assume- half-Kryptonian, I've been monogamous but haven't been using protection," the corner of Bruce's mouth twitched in a smile, "but in my defense, I really didn't think pregnancy was a risk."

Slowly, but steadily, Bruce exhaled, and leaned into Alfred. Not heavily, but drawing comfort nevertheless. There was a release in the tension of Bruce's shoulders, a trace of calm settling within him at Alfred's words.

"Thank you." He closed his eyes, raising a hand to knead at his temples, "my body is a traitor, Alfred. If I listen to it, I shall probably scream."

"Still," Bruce continued, "I will listen. I'll even be careful." Well, he'd try.

Alfred wrapped careful arms around his son pulling him into a gentle embrace letting him express himself. But he could help a small chuckle at the end of his son's valiant speech. "You've never been careful but scream if you think it'll help." "Also you might want to begin using a bathtub. Your mother was fond of the weightlessness especially the further along she got." Alfred suggested. "Thank you for telling me.... You should tell Clark. I've faith in him." Alfred almost had to. The alternative was he'd have to brawl Superman, so faith it was.

Bruce had never thought of himself as a tactile person, and truthfully, he didn't remember Alfred as having been demonstrative either. They had clung to each other after Crime Alley, just for simple survival. But beyond that...

And Bruce had not hugged Alfred goodbye before leaving Gotham. Had been unable to tell him, had scarcely understood it except as a scream that existed inside his skin.

This felt uncannily the same, and yet, they had both changed.

Touch had become common between them- even if it was just Alfred holding Bruce on his feet as he returned to the cave, dripping rainwater and poison and blood on the floor. And Dickie too, who had taught Bruce to embrace others.

This time, Bruce pressed into Alfred. This time, he said a little of how he felt. This time, he chuckled and nodded into Alfred's shoulder.

"You're right. Of course." Bruce sighed. "But no, I don't think screaming will do any good."

He didn't move from his place, leaning into his father's comforting presence. Drawing strength from it like a thirsting plant after rainfall. "I would like a bath, and just as well we were smart enough not to remove the grab rails," they were far too useful after injuries. "Tea. Oranges. All of that would be nice."

"My mother had a rough time of it," Bruce said slowly, "didn't she?" It hadn't been something discussed with Bruce at his age, but it... fit in hindsight. "Hn."

A quiet huff from Bruce, "I'm certain beyond some surprise this will-" he almost fidgeted. "He and Lois were keen to have a family, only, well." Only, Bruce thought pointedly, they had all reasoned Clark was sterile.

"And if he does have an issue, then that's his problem, not mine."

#alfred answers #halloween 2025

Alfred slowly pulled back but only to look at his son better. A serious conversation that called for eye contact. "Your mother was notoriously fragile and the medical understandings back then were much more limited. Pregnancy was hard on her but she would have gone through it a million times to have you in her arms. You were her miracle Master Bruce." Alfred gently patted Bruce's hand. "If I could give you my memory of the day you came into our lives I promise I would. We were all very happy." Alfred hummed as he listened that Bruce was able to have children and Lois was not, despite the marriage and attempts from what was implied. "And then it will be my problem." Alfred was partly joking. He would give Clark a stern talking to if the man of Steel would be kind enough to sit still for it should he upset and disappoint his son. "I'll get the bath running and bring you some tea and oranges."

"Trick or treat!!!!" :>

@first-boy-wonder

"Ah and what are you dressed up as this year?" Alfred pulled out a full sized candy bar. Anyone who walked all the way up the manor drive to claim such a prize deserved it.

.... as did those who lived here and started their journey here.

trippingtranspansartistical

Trick Or Treat!

Reblog for others to Trick or Treat your inbox

"Master Bruce." A familiar voice sounded at Bruce's bedroom door followed by the familiar knock pattern, the promising scent of food slipping into the man's bedroom. His good and faithful servant Alfred. It had been nearly a month since the requested diet change and since Bruce was not inclined to tell Alfred why. It was now the man's turn to ask. But first he needed to get in the door. ( @butlerofthecave )

Bruce had been dozing, stretched out in the slash of sunshine from the window. Conscious, in the loosest sense of the word, and even at the familiar voice, the rhythm-knock at his door, Bruce roused slowly. Seeping to awareness, Bruce groaned aloud towards the door. A wordless invitation to enter that would be just as familiar to Alfred.

Aware that Alfred would soon come in, and at least interested in the smell of food- perpetual hunger having framed Bruce's life for the past few months -Bruce sat up and stretched his back out, yawning before trying again: "Come in, Alfred."

It had been sometime since Bruce had been diagnosed with 'baby' and as yet, he'd failed to put together the correct words to tell his father figure. Instead, as he often was in such situations, Bruce had been avoidant and off-beat towards Alfred.

The thing Alfred noticed first was the sunlight as he entered. As rare as it was in Gotham it was even more rare Bruce indulged in it's glory. Secondly that Bruce was resting while this is not outside the usual for the man Alfred had been noticing Bruce doing it more and with the request of food adjustments it caused the man to worry. He walked in and over to Bruce presenting the slightly later than normal lunch to the man. A perfect balance of warm and cold offerings that fit the nutrition request. As well as an offering of favored cookies. "Master Bruce." It sounded more stiff than it normally did from the loyal butler. Leaning close to concerned parent about to talk to their teen about missing curfew. "You've made changes to your diet and while I'm happy you've interest in your nutritional care, you've not told me why." Implying Alfred had also been snooping but unsuccessful into uncovering the tracks in the Batcomputer. After this statement he was silent. Silently requesting an answer for the changes he saw happening.

As Alfred entered, Bruce snagged a sleeping robe, entangling himself self-consciously. Showing had been a- recent development -slight, but unmistakable to Bruce's eye. Something he had taken pains to occlude.

He reached out to immediately snag a white chocolate and cranberry cookie. Pausing, Bruce studied Alfred's face momentarily, then bit down into his cookie. He grunted, shifting over to make space, indicating with a hand. There was an even chance if Alfred would take a customary chair, or join Bruce on the bed; it seemed to depend on how concerned Alfred was, or wasn't.

Swallowing, Bruce said glumly, "you should sit down for this."

Frankly, Bruce had wished he had been sitting. He bided his time, drawing it out by finishing the cookie in several swift, voracious bites. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Bruce eyed the ceiling critically, avoiding eye contact before announcing: "So I'm in the family way."

And then as if to underline the point, Bruce fidgeted with the robe to undo his careful disguise work.

Alfred was glad to see Bruce eating but moved to sit on the bed after his son insisted he sit. Alfred had been told so many things from injury, to death, to people going missing standing up that if Bruce was asking him to sit it was very serious. The man was confused when Bruce made the announcement and then began to unrobe as quickly as he had robed up. There it was though a softening in his son's body. "Is this something you want?" Alfred was a mix of things but he'd be asked to sit and his son was hiding from him. Was his son ok? How did this happen? Was it done with consent? Would his body be alright?

Taking a second cookie, Bruce's brow furrowed in troubled thought. Chewing slowly, he shook his head- minutely, but finally. Somewhat hesitant, as he put it to words: "No."

His eyebrows pinched. Frowning down at himself. Mouth twisting uncertainly.

He did not want to be pregnant. Absolutely not. That was increasingly certain. At the least, feeling the sharp edge of his body turn blunt in his grasp was- faintly terrifying, a nauseous loss of control, a growing anguish at once profound and visceral.

This is not who I am. This is not what my body should be. This is no longer home to me.

"...but," Bruce had yet to bite into the cookie, having stilled entirely. Staring down at himself, hesitant, "I do want the baby."

That was just as intense, just as fierce, even more heartfelt for him. The decision to protect regardless of personal consequence, every bit as absolute as it had been for the other children.

He took a bite of cookie, before wringing a shoulder, "...so. I suppose yes. Yes and no."

The man listened carefully. He couldn't imagine being in a position like his son was have to decide what to do with such a choice. It was Bruce's decision and his alone to make.

"And are we following tradition if things go wrong?" Alfred asking if Bruce wanted to be saved or the baby if it came to that. Birth was already a complicated process, let alone a scenario like this.

"And if I may... do you know who the other parent is?" A double edged sword to be a support for his son and someone to blame should anything go wrong.

"I'm sorry you're experiencing this right now. If I can do anything else to help besides the adjustments to your diet please let me know. I experienced your mother's pregnancy. Even if it seems ridiculous please let me help if I can. And listen to your body." Alfred wanted his son as comfortable as he could be made during this process. A worried father but at least it was a worry about something his son did want.

Bruce finished the second cookie, giving Alfred a measured look as he ate slowly. "No," he answered. "If things go wrong, then we save whoever has the best chance of survival." Not exactly tradition which would preserve his life first, but not entirely departed from it.

The next look he gave Alfred was even more careful, sidelong and wary. He cleared his throat, "I haven't told the other father yet."

He had to clear his throat again, before actually answering. "Clark. At least I assume- half-Kryptonian, I've been monogamous but haven't been using protection," the corner of Bruce's mouth twitched in a smile, "but in my defense, I really didn't think pregnancy was a risk."

Slowly, but steadily, Bruce exhaled, and leaned into Alfred. Not heavily, but drawing comfort nevertheless. There was a release in the tension of Bruce's shoulders, a trace of calm settling within him at Alfred's words.

"Thank you." He closed his eyes, raising a hand to knead at his temples, "my body is a traitor, Alfred. If I listen to it, I shall probably scream."

"Still," Bruce continued, "I will listen. I'll even be careful." Well, he'd try.

Alfred wrapped careful arms around his son pulling him into a gentle embrace letting him express himself. But he could help a small chuckle at the end of his son's valiant speech. "You've never been careful but scream if you think it'll help." "Also you might want to begin using a bathtub. Your mother was fond of the weightlessness especially the further along she got." Alfred suggested. "Thank you for telling me.... You should tell Clark. I've faith in him." Alfred almost had to. The alternative was he'd have to brawl Superman, so faith it was.

"Master Bruce." A familiar voice sounded at Bruce's bedroom door followed by the familiar knock pattern, the promising scent of food slipping into the man's bedroom. His good and faithful servant Alfred. It had been nearly a month since the requested diet change and since Bruce was not inclined to tell Alfred why. It was now the man's turn to ask. But first he needed to get in the door. ( @butlerofthecave )

Bruce had been dozing, stretched out in the slash of sunshine from the window. Conscious, in the loosest sense of the word, and even at the familiar voice, the rhythm-knock at his door, Bruce roused slowly. Seeping to awareness, Bruce groaned aloud towards the door. A wordless invitation to enter that would be just as familiar to Alfred.

Aware that Alfred would soon come in, and at least interested in the smell of food- perpetual hunger having framed Bruce's life for the past few months -Bruce sat up and stretched his back out, yawning before trying again: "Come in, Alfred."

It had been sometime since Bruce had been diagnosed with 'baby' and as yet, he'd failed to put together the correct words to tell his father figure. Instead, as he often was in such situations, Bruce had been avoidant and off-beat towards Alfred.

The thing Alfred noticed first was the sunlight as he entered. As rare as it was in Gotham it was even more rare Bruce indulged in it's glory. Secondly that Bruce was resting while this is not outside the usual for the man Alfred had been noticing Bruce doing it more and with the request of food adjustments it caused the man to worry. He walked in and over to Bruce presenting the slightly later than normal lunch to the man. A perfect balance of warm and cold offerings that fit the nutrition request. As well as an offering of favored cookies. "Master Bruce." It sounded more stiff than it normally did from the loyal butler. Leaning close to concerned parent about to talk to their teen about missing curfew. "You've made changes to your diet and while I'm happy you've interest in your nutritional care, you've not told me why." Implying Alfred had also been snooping but unsuccessful into uncovering the tracks in the Batcomputer. After this statement he was silent. Silently requesting an answer for the changes he saw happening.

As Alfred entered, Bruce snagged a sleeping robe, entangling himself self-consciously. Showing had been a- recent development -slight, but unmistakable to Bruce's eye. Something he had taken pains to occlude.

He reached out to immediately snag a white chocolate and cranberry cookie. Pausing, Bruce studied Alfred's face momentarily, then bit down into his cookie. He grunted, shifting over to make space, indicating with a hand. There was an even chance if Alfred would take a customary chair, or join Bruce on the bed; it seemed to depend on how concerned Alfred was, or wasn't.

Swallowing, Bruce said glumly, "you should sit down for this."

Frankly, Bruce had wished he had been sitting. He bided his time, drawing it out by finishing the cookie in several swift, voracious bites. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Bruce eyed the ceiling critically, avoiding eye contact before announcing: "So I'm in the family way."

And then as if to underline the point, Bruce fidgeted with the robe to undo his careful disguise work.

Alfred was glad to see Bruce eating but moved to sit on the bed after his son insisted he sit. Alfred had been told so many things from injury, to death, to people going missing standing up that if Bruce was asking him to sit it was very serious. The man was confused when Bruce made the announcement and then began to unrobe as quickly as he had robed up. There it was though a softening in his son's body. "Is this something you want?" Alfred was a mix of things but he'd be asked to sit and his son was hiding from him. Was his son ok? How did this happen? Was it done with consent? Would his body be alright?

Taking a second cookie, Bruce's brow furrowed in troubled thought. Chewing slowly, he shook his head- minutely, but finally. Somewhat hesitant, as he put it to words: "No."

His eyebrows pinched. Frowning down at himself. Mouth twisting uncertainly.

He did not want to be pregnant. Absolutely not. That was increasingly certain. At the least, feeling the sharp edge of his body turn blunt in his grasp was- faintly terrifying, a nauseous loss of control, a growing anguish at once profound and visceral.

This is not who I am. This is not what my body should be. This is no longer home to me.

"...but," Bruce had yet to bite into the cookie, having stilled entirely. Staring down at himself, hesitant, "I do want the baby."

That was just as intense, just as fierce, even more heartfelt for him. The decision to protect regardless of personal consequence, every bit as absolute as it had been for the other children.

He took a bite of cookie, before wringing a shoulder, "...so. I suppose yes. Yes and no."