#gonna have to think abt villain batkids and hero bruce soon tho

[bruciemilf]

Factually, I know Bruce is a bad cook. In my wonderland brain, however, he's a baker in some Hell's Kitchen-esque neighborhood, both flourishing and festering down the Narrow's ribs.

Curiously, The Bat seems particularly focused on protecting this joint. And whoever walks in it.

The classic myth of food is that it brings people together; That's the one thing everyone, under the greyscale rainbow in Gotham, has in common. Everyone has to eat, and everyone has to die.

And all kinds of people walk in there.

You get thieves with watchful, observant eyes nemorizing the concise, expert movement of your fingers and wonder how these machines of pain and violance can be delicate enough for sweets.

"I know what you are. I know who you are."

"I'm not exactly hiding. "

" I'm gonna rob you now."

" Take some tuna for Iris while you're at it,"

You get jesters with runny make-up and busted lips and a heartbroken hope in their eyes, crying over their fried ice cream,

" I'm stupid. I know -- I know what he's doing to me. And my mom's voice is just pounding in my ear, every fuckin' day, ' You're letting him, Harley. You're letting him and you deserve it. You should've married that fucking doctor. At least he didn't hit you, he just yelled and screamed and called you nasty names.'

Bruce drizzles some extra rainbow sprinkles on her ice cream. " And that voice is wrong." And he'll keep saying that voice is wrong till the day Harley doesn't like ice cream anymore. And that day doesn't exist.

And slowly, you learn not to be impressed. When you live with wolves, you sharpen your teeth. Dogs do what dogs do; they eat. An angry dog is a hungry dog.

And this boy, with a red scarf over his nose, waving a gun in Bruce's face, is looking plenty angry.

"Just fucking stay there, okay?" He'd probably sound more threatening without the glass tremble in his voice. "I'm just gonna take some cash, and,--"

Bruce's calm is frosty; He's got experience with guns being pointed at his face. " Your safety's on. "

Teal eyes are glossy, shining with feral, living fear, like it's Bruce who has him cornered, backed up to a wall and looming death over him. there's no kids in crime alley.

Whatever they are, they can't afford that title. But he looks exactly how boys in crime alley look; Young and scared and haunted.

"What's your name, honey?"

"...Jason."

" Are you hungry, Jason?"

The way he wolfs down three plates with tears running down his cheek answers Bruce plenty.

"You can have the cash, " I don't really need it, goes unspoken. It already feels slimy enough to take it. The charities and well- filled cups of homeless people don't ease that. "I'm guessing you need it."

"It's for my dad," 'Dad' drips from Jason's lips like liquid hatred, " He told me to rob you cause you never call the cops."

" Calling criminals to stop other criminals seems a little counter-productive, " He needs to do something with his hands; Or he'll take Jason and hug him and drag him to the manor, where Alfred can prepare the fluffiest bed, and the warmest bath. So he's packing him something extra, to take at home.

Still. Hearing Jason laugh makes it worth it.

" You can say you got dinner, too."

" I'm not giving Willis shit, " Willis. One of Harvey's guns. They need a chat about working hazards. " Gonna take this to Dickie and Timmy, thought. Dick's gonna love this..."

And Jason, Bruce comes to find out, doesn't know himself half as good as he knows his siblings.

He learns Timmy, the baby brother, loves to skate, and he's the reason they go to the ER every other Thursday. He learns Dick can never run out of energy; Learns he's running on spite alone and they can't go a day without fighting.

And when Bruce is fighting Nightwing, the newest villain in Gotham, he learns both he and Dick can land the meanest Produnova recorded.