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Good Evening

"Hello. If you'd like to learn more about me, or want to know something, please drop it in my inbox."

[[I will answer stuff tomorrow morning around 8:00 AM PDT]]

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Welcome to Question Time with Alfred Pennyworth

Audience applause fades as the camera pans into a study, where Alfred is sitting in an armchair in front of a fire. He smiles at the cameras.

"Hello again viewers, and welcome back to the week's favorite tea time. I've got a special brew set aside, so do be sure to make your guess at what it is today.

So let's get under way with viewer mail."

Questions, comments, or concerns? Drop in the inbox, here! Or guess this week's mystery tea! All questions will be answered tonight at 10:00 PM PDT

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Part of the Family, Part of my Life (Pt. 1)

roguishredrobin answered your post: Attention!

Mafia!AU. Tim’s the Boss, jay is is bodyguard/lover. >3

"Listen here, these shop owners are good people," the lean, young man coolly declared. He gave a sheepish grin and continued, "So if you wouldn't mind, we'd like for you to stop harassing them. Now get off our territory"

Tim "Red Robin" Drake was standing at the head of an alley, hands casually in his trench coat's pockets, and shoulders laid back. At his side stood Jason "Red Hood" Todd; bodyguard and general dirty work man. Jason's fingers tapped restlessly at the case he was holding, eager to work his gun. It seemed to Jason that every week his boss was sticking his neck into some new pile of shit, and as his bodyguard, he had to clean up the mess. Sort of.

"Oh yeah? Well our boss, he's pretty damn sure it's our territory," the thug strained to reply. He stood up, revealing his towering frame, topping out at nearly seven feet. He stepped away from the shop's back door and into the pool of light from the alley's lone light bulb. His crazy grin opened a wound of stained yellow teeth on the thick field of grey make up that covered his face, "And I'm pretty sure that I can take on a squirt like you."

"Oh my. Jason it seems the Grey Face Gang is getting cocky again," Tim tutted rhetorically. He motioned for the case Jason was holding, and dialed in the case's lock combo. Smiling at the brute's confused look, he popped open the case and pulled out what looked like a toy gun, "You see this little gun here?"

"Wazzit supposed to do?" the grunt laughed, "Shoot marshmallows at me?"

"As amusing as that would be, it doesn't. This gun is 3D printed. Untraceable, and built completely in house. You can't profile the bullets since there's no rifling. We've even made some custom ammo."

"Blah, blah, blah, I dun give a shit!" the brute lunged forward, pulling out a knife from a side holster.

"Remember," Tim crooned, "You don't bring a knife to a gun fight."

He brought the gun up in a fluid motion and took aim. If anyone had seen Tim's face, they would have sworn that his eyes changed in that split second before he squeezed the trigger. There was a small muffled bang, and the bullet launched forward, through the barrel, and out the small silencer. After mere microseconds in the air, it touched the grunt's forehead and continued straight through his brain, silently shredding what little grey matter he had.

"Pity," Tim intoned, as he side stepped the momentum-carried corpse, "If the poor mook had any brains, we could have brought him in. There's always work for a big fellow like that."

Their numbers were small enough, but they were effective. They held the third largest territory in the city. Tim handed the gun to Jason, to be taken off and melted down to make more guns. Tim turned around and started to wipe off his hands, as Jason set to work.

Tim hadn't actually used special ammo. He used ammo that could have been used in another gun. A gun that so happened to be used in a robbery just last week. With all the fingerprints and DNA to lock up a rival gang member. Jason smirked as he slipped on a pair of gloves and pulled out the red herring. He placed it ever so randomly on the ground, and then pulled out the kit to remove evidence of his boss being there.

"You finished yet?" Tim called out. He looked over his shoulder, "I'm feeling a little flustered after all that. I might need to relieve some steam before we get the next job done."

He laughed and started to slowly walk off. Jason just rolled his eyes and smiled.

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OoC: Me and this Account

Just a PSA

So first I want to apologize to everyone. I know I said I was going to be on more, and then I kind of disappeared. I've been dealing with summer camp counselling, school starting, and all that fun stuff.

But I'm working towards being a little more productive, so hopefully I can be on more. I'l try and keep you all tided over with these little stories that I'm working on.

And please! If you have an idea for a story, let me know! I love when people submit ideas!

Thank you all so much,

Your friendly neighbourhood Alfred mod, Aj

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And The Winner Is... (Pt. 1)

"Master Wayne, why did I let you talk me into this?" Alfred sighed as he steered the rental car down another country road. Bruce had another pissing match with Clark, and this time it was on whether Ma Kent or Alfred could cook better. Bruce had been bragging about how all of Alfred's culinary training led him to be one of the bests chefs he knew. Clark would not have anyone dis his Ma's cooking.

"Because Alfred, we all know you're the best chef around," the yawned reply echoed from the back of the car. Despite flying in on a private jet, Bruce had still slept terribly, and was properly jet lagged.

"If you say so. But to me, my old nan's country cooking was, and still is, the best I'll ever taste," Alfred sighed as he turned down the last road. He signalled into the Kent's long driveway, up towards the iconic farm house. Stepping out, he opens the door for Bruce, waking him up a little in the process.

"There you are! You two look absolutely starved! I'm sure between myself and Alfred, we can get some meat on yer bones," Ma Kent gushed, enveloping both Bruce and Alfred in a back breaking, country mother hug.

"Yes, yes, Miss Kent. A pleasure to meet you," Bruce curtly replied.

"And apologies for this meeting to be on such awkward terms," Alfred promptly added.

"Nonsense!" Ma Kent laughed, "Just my little Clarkie-kins trying to uphold my honour and dignity again."

"Ma," Clark interrupted, walking out from the parlor, "Could you not call me that in front of Mr. Wayne?"

"Really now, we're all good friends here," Bruce tittered through a smirk, "Right Clarkie-kins?"

Trying to hide the extreme shade of red his face took on, Clark muttered something about the kitchen and waving people into it. The four of them walked through the house, past some childhood pictures of Clark, past a few doors, and into the Kent house's large kitchen.

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     - Bonus points if you say why.

Other than the one being played, what character could you see the mun playing?

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Attention!

If you would like a certain topic written upon, please come to me with your idea! I'd like to practice writing short prompts more, and I want ideas from my followers!

So if you want a drabble, what topic would you want it to be on?

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Please reblog this as silent permission for me to rp with you.

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The Story

"Welcome home Master Wayne," Alfred recites, as Bruce stumbles out of the batmobile and across the cave to his command chair. Alfred sighs and flashes a half-hearted smile. He walks over to the tea trolley and pours a cup of Gunpowder Black Tea for Bruce. He picks up the pieces of discarded uniform, lightly folding them and carrying them over to the laundry bin. Out of the corner of his eye he watches Bruce sip the tea, typing up a report on the night's events and who was causing mischief. Bruce closes the report and inhales the vapour of the tea, smiling softly to himself. He downs the rest of the cup, and sets it on the tray, a signal to Alfred that he is retiring until the later morning.

Squeak. Rattle. Squeak. Alfred pushes the trolley along the empty hallways and empty rooms. Past Dick's room, the desk still cluttered with old text books. Past Lance's room, by far the most vacant. Past Jason's room, comics and figurines occupying every space. Past Tim's room, mystery and thriller novels on every shelf. Past Damian's, foreign swords and a few video games tucked away. Each room a memorial to a childhood that was given a chance when the worst appeared at their doorstep. When at the bottom, drenched and laying abandoned, they were given a chance here.

Alfred sighed and wheeled the trolley into the kitchen. Saucer. Cup. Pot. Platter. Each hand washed and carefully stowed away in one of the many cupboards lining the kitchen. A wall of safety around the breakfast nook and island, where many breakfasts were hastily downed, slowly picked at, or played with. Click, the light is turned off.

The embers dim in Alfred's personal fireplace. He turns the last page in Kurt Vonnegut's Player Piano. He yawns and closes the book. The book was finished, but he knew the story continued. He knew several living examples of the story, always, going on.

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i dare you to flirt with my muse.

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You’re a roleplayer

We can plot

We can be friends

Reblog this if:

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[[ By the way...

... I may end up just writing a bunch of BatFam stories here.

Why?

Well, because Alfred interacts with so many people. I feel like he's a nexus of the stories of Gotham. Also because I'm so sporadic with replying and updating. So I might as well let you guys be entertained, no?

So enjoy. I'll be writing more stuff soon.

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A Flower For...

Drip. Drip. Drip. The gutter pours the last of the rain down through the sky and into the puddle at the manor's corner. The dark lawn glistens in the early morning dusk, resting against the deep purples and oranges of the cloudy sky. The glistening gravel lies cold on the driveway, undisturbed for the longest time at the foot of the isolated manor. The tall mahogany doors stand at the front of the manor, a pair of solemn guards hiding the dark and lustrous empty hallways and parlours. In dark corners, spiders wrap up the unsuspecting flies that spent their early hours occupying the empty rooms. From the depths of the manor a elderly grandfather clock strains its pendulum and bellows forth a bell to toll the hour.

Alfred Pennyworth pushes his trolley through the expansive hallways, making his way from the professionally built kitchens. He sighs, and makes his way to the hidden elevator down to the master's cave. It had been another long evening for the both of them. Master Wayne out on the town, in various meetings, cleaning up the city and so forth. Pennyworth in the manor, worrying if whether or not the tea and light breakfast he prepared would be needed. That was the catch to being a Wayne Butler. There was always something to worry about. But he knew better. He knew that Master Wayne would always be able to get out of his meetings, and make it home. The only place he could call home. And Pennyworth was damn sure he would make it as much of a home as possible. He stopped in the main foyer, to begin his usual morning ritual. He removed several flowers from the vase on the trolley, and briskly trotted out the front doors. He made his way down the winding driveway, and turned towards the family graveyard. Unlatching the gate, he stepped through to pay his respects. One on Thomas' grave, for the father who never knew how proud he would be. One on Martha's grave for the mother who never knew the rest of the family she started. One on Lance's grave for the boy who became a soldier, if only for a minute. One on Jason's grave for the childhood lost in the name of a safer haven. One on Damian's grave for the child scorned by his mother's loyalty.

Alfred stood up and paused. He took a breath, and made his silent prayer. A silent prayer, that he hoped would never fall to darkness. That there should never have to be another flower.

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[[

Hi. I'm back. Kind of. Maybe ish. Hit me up if you want to start something!

This message has been funded by the fucks given by the idiot who runs this blog~

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Efrem Zimbalist Jr. died today.  Although many know him from his live action TV roles in such series as 77 Sunset Strip and The F.B.I., I will always remember him as the wonderful voice of Alfred Pennyworth in Batman: The Animated Series.

RIP, sir.  You entertained an awful lot of people in your life, and who could ask for anything more?