Alfred Pennyworth has lived a long life. As a child, he was chosen to train for the Queen's army in exchange for dorms, education, and food. It was a golden ticket to a better life for a young orphan with no connections and no future.
He dug his way out of poverty by gritting his teeth and excelling in whatever task they gave him.
He has seen and done things in the name of his Queen and her country that keep him up at night. When he was free from his services, he started a family with a stranger, then realized he was too weak to raise that family, leaving them and his home country behind.
He found love in a woman promised to another.
He watched her marry a man he loved and hated in equal parts because while he could not have her, he at least lost to one of the kindest, most honorable men he'd ever met.
He raised their son when they were stolen from them too young. Stood by the lad's side as the boy slowly lost himself to his vengeance, edging on the line of madness and wondering if he would one day have to be the one to reunite his love with her son if he ever went over that line.
She would have never forgiven her son for becoming the kind of monster Alfred was raised to hunt. In the darkest, broken part of his heart, he often wondered if he would do it when Bruce wasn't looking—to save him the pain of being killed by the man who raised him as a favor for a lost love.
Alfred could never bring himself to, and when Master Bruce returned from his training, he doubted he could. He was good, but Master Bruce got better. He became dangerous to a near-uncontrollable level.
Alfred watched him set up his tools, prepare for his big reveal, and battle against crime with a passive expression and a hand curved around a hidden gun. He waited a few weeks to make sure Master Bruce wasn't the monster that he so clearly was capable of being.
He never told Master Bruce, never allowed a single hint of doubt to show in his words or actions, but he waited, watched, learned, and searched for an opening.
He was a master spy; an actual spy can wait years before they struck. Alfred had been gathering information since he was seven years old, searching for a way to make the older boys regret every looking in his direction. It became apparent that he would never win if Master Bruce turned his skills on him and went on a murderous spring.
So Alfred contacted the same program that made him a success story. They sent him a child who was more than ready to convince Master Bruce he was nothing more than a poor, unfortunate soul searching for a foster home.
Daniel Fenton. A young boy who appeared in England a few years ago in a swirl of green. He fell from a portal to an unknown world that the English hoarded. He was placed in a deep underground lab, used a lab rat, and slowly trained into a weapon for the crown. He was ready to bring Master Bruce to his knees should the need arise.
Alfred instructed him to only strike if Master Bruce ever stopped being the city's defender. The boy agreed, apparently willing to do anything to get out of the government's hands. Alfred had been counting on that.
He remembers those childhood days. The scars on his body are a gashly reminder of whether he ever dared forget. It helped that Daniel had an American accent- though from where was hard to pinpoint.
It was almost as if the lad was from a state that did not exist—and it was easy to slip him into Gotham's streets, easy to convince him to break into one of Master Bruce's cars to sleep in under the pretense of escaping the cold, and far more straightforward to persuade Master Bruce to offer him a warm bed for the night after his ward found the lad while parking in Wayne Manor's garage.
Alfred Pennyworth has seen many things in his life and has always had a contingency plan. He didn't like using them, but if there was one motto he lived by his entire life, it was this: "A good man can not kill a monster. Only another monster can do so."
It was cruel to place Daniel, who was abused by his countrymen, into this house only to kill the other boy he raised as a son. But it was necessary, as he had long ago accepted.
He just hopes he does not become attached to Daniel. He's seen that look in the younger recruits' eyes before, shining like a soft glint in the far corners of their eyes.
The glint of hope that one day, he would escape. Alfred would hate to have to take out his own contingency plan.
I'm not into poppy playtime, but my brother has been yapping abput a certain "Dr. Harley Sawyer" for the past week, so tonight I'll do the first thing I do when I find a character I'm interested in from a franchise I don't care about: read xreader fanfiction of him.
Bout ready to smother my brother who thought he's perfectly allowed to take up the whole middle seat on the plane. He can sleep fine sitting up. I cannot. But you don't see me doing that. Nooooo. Because I'm not an inconsiderate ass.
My son, who didn’t want to admit he liked Hozier, performing Cherry Wine at the local UKM (Youth and culture meets), he qualified to the next level. Yes, he fudged the lyrics a bit, but tbh I was the only one who noticed, and he'll have more time to practice before the next outing.
@whumpering-heights I am once again drawing fanart
Listen, I know 50% of the fanart you have is from me, but I had to draw Sidekick too. I think you've mentioned him having nightmares, so I did one of those moments. This kid needs some love and some therapy. Also, I know it was his right arm that was injured, but I wanted to draw a bandage.
….my cat is giving me demon death glares because i refuse to give him more spankings. sir you are an old man, you have kitty asthma, and if i spank you too much you start coughing.
He really likes being a drum set. the bluetooth speakers are his favorite thing.
