truly thinking of like Just Being Yourself as a supposed matter of being More spontaneous and not being caught up in your own head about it or whatever, but then the nd perspective (and really potentially anyone who’s Being Themself isn’t sufficiently of the “normal”) wherein it’s like, the more everyday / usual approach is of course to filter oneself / mask, but you don’t even know that until you learn of it and then like, think through it re: yourself, and then doing Less of that and figuring out what you do when you’re not masking Is like, added effort and a conscious process. and how things can involve not just tamping down xyz but adding in various behaviors for others’ sake, or just that like, things you haven’t Yet tamped down at all b/c you think they’re things you’re doing Right or Have To Do / i.e. would be covered under masking anyways if you didn’t do them “enough” already, but then it’s like, maybe this is generally a waste of my energy at best if not also effectively punished lmao and even if i’d “naturally” do it, again it can be matter of consciously Choosing not to, not b/c it’s not being yourself, but just b/c of using that awareness to like, i’m not going to do that in the majority of situations but i know it’s because of other people’s nonsense. that’s me and like, [talking] lately lol
and certainly it’s like. oh haven’t found yourself in time for college, better go to a house party or something elevated and conveniently more interesting to look at than a scene in a high school hallway, y.a. protagonist, and follow your increasing rate of impulsive decisions to the core of Your Truth like a geiger counter lmao, quick....i mean not like anyone has to have their life figured out by eighteen b/c that’s just not how it works anyways, or like you either have your secret realest self under lock and key to just be let out eventually here or like yeah better find it on one especial occasion, and that occasion should be about cutting loose & shit, like oh well if you just max out the volume on everything you’re feeling by elevating it all enough you’ll overhear your realest self and everyone who matters will be like oh hell yeah, in recognition of the authenticity of that drama lol....like oh believe me my Real Self has spontaneity and vivacity and passion and elevation, of the kind nt people will like, only ascribe and relate to a context of romance or some shit, like that’s a wednesday maybe b/c of having fun with xyz, couldn’t be me but i guess have fun with when like, people just like don’t have the humor or theatricality (or ability to have exchanges with other people that aren’t competitions / an issued challenge or threat) where it’s like oh someone could only be being fun or playful or energetic if they’re a bit fucked up actually, i.e. drunk surely. like well no that can just be personality & choices, including being what you think is a bit fucked up b/c being nd is surely incorrect & certainly abnormal, which is incorrect, so same difference....but anyways it can be its own choice all the time to actually share all those supposedly properly Elevated [being oneself] properties around anyone else, and even then of course it’s like, results vary with who likes it vs thinks it’s clearly doing too much / nobody doing that could Really be being themself, bring out that normaller you who must exist, or it can maybe be entertaining so long as you just do it on your own and nobody has to figure out how to have an interaction about it b/c [the concept of how to interact w/other ppl on their terms???]
honorary addendum for truly how “performative” might generally be used in some negative context but it’s like, we are all performing every day lol, congrats to the people who again think oh i’m Just being Normal, you just learned that particular performance and don’t have to be conscious about what you might be doing wrong or how to act differently b/c it wasn’t relevant for you to Have to....its being like more genuine than anything to of course be consciously performing in some way / to some degree while other people in turn consciously recognize this, vs when people think they’re being Genuine / Acting Natural but it’s just a particular performance they learned that they can’t even switch out of b/c they don’t know it’s a performance and/or can’t/won’t acknowledge there’s other modes of expression/communication that are no less real, performance has its purposes and it’s not all like well people are just trying to Trick you into thinking that’s how they really are / the only way they can be; how can anyone Really act like that, any affectation should be dropped, can’t believe everyone isn’t Just Being Normal as hard as i am, b/c i get to encounter all these other people who Get Me and/or i sure don’t encounter obstacles / pushback over what seems to be nothing / my just behaving naturally and neutrally, so i must be the expert on the rightest way to be, f for everyone who’s clearly like being too weird or rude or thoughtless and etc
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brucie and his 19 year old girlfriend who he flaunts around Gotham like it’s no big deal. he takes her everywhere and anywhere there will be press. everyone is so shocked and they don’t even know what to say. especially the kids. dick and jason are (high key) jealous of it… -🍓
PART ONE ✩ PART TWO
MINORS DNI 18+
BRUCE WAYNE has been keeping you around to garner attention around himself and off of his dealings as the Batman. You were the perfect candidate given your social influence, your popularity, and it helped you were easy on the eyes. If Bruce Wayne was the center of controversy for dating someone half his age, Batman could keep a lookout on Penguin’s latest caches without distractions like the Cobblepots releasing a statement that Batman is wrongfully investigating a man based on appearance. Prejudice doesn’t make the news, but an age gap does.
You practically float off the floor when Bruce is around, whether it be an arm around your waist; leading you or twirling you like a dance with music he hums; sweeping you off your feet, easily up over his head. It becomes clear why he’s so dangerous, he’s such a charmer. Somehow he has romance dialed in, and you fell for someone so put-together. You love going everywhere with him, and when a fan asks for a picture, he’s the first to hug you from behind and curl his huge body around you, cheek-to-cheek with his chin over your shoulder. He’s so shamelessly touchy. It gets to a point where he likes when you scold him with a pat. Hitting his sturdy bicep when he tugs the neckline of your dress to him for a peek at your tits, and all he does is growl at you playfully, like you’re asking for it later.
To be honest, you are. Yet, Bruce won’t get it to you. He dangles it over your head in public, but alone he makes up some excuse and calls his butler to drive you home.
One time when you’ve been invited to the Manor, it was so you could get ready and drive to a gala with Bruce. Arriving together is a big statement, and you’re excited, but in a much realer sense there’s a tickle of dread in your stomach. Bruce told you to make yourself comfortable and wait for him, he’s terribly sorry that he has to attend to something first and if he’d had it his way a lady wouldn’t wait on a gentleman. You’ve already fantasized this might be it, he’s finally going to ask you. Sitting on this chaise in front of a fire you clench your legs together at the reminder. Perhaps he’s getting ready so he’ll finally sleep with you. Briefly, you imagine what the paparazzi would bark at you if you arrived to the gala with sex hair. It brings a smile to your face.
Just in case, you had outfitted yourself with a tasteful nightgown underneath your clothes, and you decide now is the time to enact it. Shimmying off your garments, you then arrange yourself seductively on the chaise. Bruce’ll be here any minute, and he always acts so insatiable in public. Maybe if you surprise him, he won’t be able to steel himself. Your fingers play with the hem, already short but your ride it up even more, and trace circles onto your bare hip. You’ve felt his hands on your hips when you wore a stringy little bikini for him on his yacht, and those callused hands had pulled you right down on his lap to stick his tongue in your mouth. You can still taste it, closing your eyes to revisualize it. He was so big underneath you—
“… and this is a one time thing, understand? My debt is paid.”
“Don’t worry, birdboy, I won’t tell your old man—“
Voices come into focus, alerting you as the door opens and not one but two people come in. Two people you do not recognize. Without thinking it through, you stand to conceal your seductive pose meant for someone else, and everything else slips your mind.
Two men. Boyish. Both with black hair that’s grown out, and one of them with a white stripe sprouting from the front of his hairline.
“Oh,” DICK GRAYSON says. He’s no stranger to walking in on something he shouldn’t see. “Sorry, didn’t see you there.”
“Nice outfit.” JASON TODD adds, and you can tell he’s making fun of you. Your cheeks grow red hot, and you scramble for something to cover yourself up. A thin throw blanket folded over the back of the chaise is hastily straightened out to cover yourself.
Wary he might cause you grief, Dick points to a bookshelf behind you. “We just have to… get something.” He waits for something, and you realize he wants you to reply. You nod, hoping to just end this as soon as possible.
The blanket covers most, but a lot of your thigh is exposed. You try to turn with them as you they pass you, but Jason cranes his neck to catch a glance of your ass. The undersides of it hang out of your tiny nightgown. An indignant crease in your brow forms, and you make an obvious move to yank the blanket over your ass, turning it away from him. Dick keeps going, Jason hangs behind. “What’re you doing here, missy? You look a little young.” Condescension. The last thing you need right now is a conversation.
“Yeah, are you looking for someone?” Dick asks over his shoulder, more polite than his companion as he searches the spines of books with a finger.
You hesitate to say anything, you don’t know these people. “I’m waiting on someone.” A tremble shivers through you, the back of you cold from being away from the fire, and your nerves didn’t help.
“You’re not a hooker, are you?” Jason’s blunt nature shines through in his question, not that he’s intrigued or judgmental, just curious.
Your first instinct is to be offended he’d say something like that to a lady, frowning at him with a scoff. “What? No! And—!” It dawns on you that you shouldn’t put down sex work, you’re overreacting. So you wiggle your shoulders and stick your nose in the air, prissing up your attitude. “It wouldn’t matter if I was.” you say, quieter this time.
“Sure, it does. I’ve got cash on me.” Jason replies, only to get that cute offended look back on your face.
“Jason, shut up. She doesn’t know you’re trying to get under her skin.” Dick plucks out the book, and flips through it. He joins you and Jason, and you take a wary step back. He doesn’t notice, snapping the book shut and handing it off to Jason. Those blue eyes are back on you again, and you swear you see him give you a quick once-over. “Whoever you’re waiting on is a lucky guy.” he says, and by his tone you’re unsure if it’s a genuine flirt. When he smiles, dimples define, and for a brief second you’re weak in the knees.
A third voice pipes up, deeper than them both. “She’s with me.” Bruce says, walking in as he adjusts his cuff links. “Jason, always a pleasure to find you sneaking around my house.”
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