because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.
you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.
you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.
don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.
if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.
you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:
how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!
aren't you happy yet?
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AU where Steve has decent parents. They aren’t great, but they’re not bad. They show up for major things and tell him they love him, but they don’t understand him. They don’t get that he needs more than that.
So Steve’s nanny keeps in contact with him even after she’s let go because “Steve doesn’t need looking after” at the age of 10. She checks in with him all the time.
Ms. Munson is always bringing him a dish from her own dinner with her brother and son, making sure he has someone at the awards days at school, makes sure he has gifts at Christmas that he’ll actually like.
But she never invites him to her home and it doesn’t hit him until his senior year of high school that she’s Eddie Munson’s mom, that they live in the trailer park that he was never allowed to go to, that her brother must be Wayne, who took him fishing once when he got his heart broken by his first girlfriend.
He’s a different person now, but not to Eddie.
As time goes on, and he experiences more trauma than any single person should, and he gets Robin as a platonic soulmate, he realizes that Ms. Munson still shows up. His parents don’t bother much anymore, but she does.
And two days before spring break of ‘86, she sends Eddie to Steve’s house with a care package.
When Steve shuffles through the items, he nearly chokes on his own spit when he finds a bag of pre-rolled joints.
Eddie comes up with excuses, brushes it off as just a friendly gesture for someone his mom cares so much about.
But Steve won’t hear it. He asks him to stay and smoke one with him, take the edge off since he’s been dealing with midterms.
They get high on his back patio, talking and laughing late into the night, so late that Eddie almost worries he’ll have to go to school in his clothes from the day before.
Steve won’t hear it, offers his shower and his “most metal” clothes- his only black jeans and a plain white t-shirt with the sleeves cut off- and says he can sleep there for the couple of hours left before school.
Eddie wakes up to Steve making coffee and toast, using the jam his mom had included in the care package and a smile that made Eddie’s cynical heart flop in his chest.
Eddie didn’t think the next time he saw Steve would be when he was holding a broken bottle to his neck, terrified of everything and everyone, but the moment they had a second alone, Steve hugged him close.
“It’s a shit way to be welcomed into the group officially, but I’m glad you’re not alone.”
Steve and Eddie were inseparable while fighting Vecna, both of them insistent on protecting the kids.
When Steve managed to get Eddie to the motel the Munsons were staying in after El managed to get rid of Vecna, Ms. Munson was standing at the door with tears in her eyes.
“My boys.”
She patched them up, better than any doctor probably would have, giving them small kisses on the head when they winced in pain.
And eventually, she tucked them into one of the beds in the room, ignoring how they hadn’t stopped holding hands for the entire night.
She’d been hesitant to introduce them; Eddie, for all his talk of accepting people for who they are, struggled to accept how much she did for Steve, not understanding why he may need it.
But it seemed like she didn’t need to force anything. They found their way together in the end.
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Jazz and Johnny got...way more involved that Danny will ever want to know.
And Jazz, very liminal, actually fell pregnant.
She opted to leave for a bit, have the baby, and adopt it out. It was half ghost and half very liminal human, she had no idea what the GIW would do to it.
So she left on an "extended study trip", gave birth, gave it over to the adoption agency, warned them there was a high chance the kid would be a meta, and went about recovering.
Unbeknownst to her, that baby was immediately stolen by one Sheila Haywood for the purposes of tax fraud.
From there, the baby was given to Willis Todd, after Sheila lied and said that he was the father.
From there, the baby was put under the care of Catharine Todd, who died far too young.
From there, the kid tried to steal Batman's tires so he wouldn't starve.
Fast forward, and Jason Todd, now an adult, decides to pay a visit to the new head Psychologist of Arkham to vet the lady.
He ends up staring into a set of eyes that mirror his own, and when he runs the DNA from the hair he stole off of her, it comes back positive that yeah.
That's his mom.
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