#but i love the catharsis

[sadcharactersrmykryptonite]

I asked for messy not for pain.

Firstkhao is just wow I have no words. Damn stupid talented gorgeous people making me cry so much. I hate you.

[aingeal98]

Ultimately the resolution of Jason and Cass fights comes down to the fact that while he has his own ideals that don't mesh with the bats, Jason can be flexible. DC skipped the whole reconciliation with the family but while he's willing to kill it's generally a means to an end to him, not the whole entire point unless you're talking about Joker. Meanwhile for Cass the question of killing vs not killing is dead serious to her which means any time they're working together and things start going off track it's like:

Jason: Look if we kill this guy we send a message to his boss which makes it easier for us to negotiate with him from a position of power and I just think that-

Cass, snatching one of his guns and pointing it at her own head: Go on, pull the trigger. Kill him. Kill me. Go tell Batman that you let his daughter die to make a negotiation easier. He already let you die so no problem right? You think we should die? You think our life only worthwhile as part of a plan, just because we're killers? Are we doomed? Are we rotten to the core with no hope of redemption? Go on then, kill us and kill part of your soul alongside it. You clearly don't care for it so why are you even trying? Kill yourself along with us, come on Jason let's all just die right?

Jason, slowly backing away: I think you may be projecting a tiny bit so just. Calm down before I call the suicide hotline please.

Cass, slowly lowering the gun and knocking the random henchman unconscious: Yeah that's what I thought, fucking pussy.

Jason: Mm yeah you know what I hate you actually. Fuck this mission I'll just shoot you right now if you're going to be this annoying about it.

Jason, explaining things later to Dick: So I just kept shooting at her until I ran out of bullets and we both calmed down enough to call a truce. We tracked the guy down and didn't kill anyone but I did blow up the batplane just as a last minute screw you. Is she always this uh... intense?

Dick: Yeah, one time I broke up with Barbara and she threw me out a window. She's just like that.

[cuppajj]

The snake and the sun god they are so Ra and Apophis it’s not even FUNNYYYYYYYY

[huggywuggysuppy]

Will Pearl realize that now she, too, has abandoned someone? Someone who loves her and resents her and doesn't understand why she was torn apart and tossed aside but knows that it wasn't her fault. That her crime was loving too much and knowing too little about how things worked here. That nobody told her all alliances will one day break and only the grief and hatred remains. Will Pearl learn this time how it feels to be the avenger, the victor, the neglecter. Will she apologize and reach out, defy the standards and in doing so prove the players still have hope? Or will she do the same as was done to her, and light TNT at her feet?

[hai-nae]

meant to post these sketches a few days ago? a week? but, well, life.

[yrlocalghost]

bearing the weight of your father's sins or something. whatever

[dailyloopdeloop]

DAY 75: onehat

[captainofthetidesbreath]

one of my favorite parts of speculating ahead of the Veilguard is the number of people talking themselves around and around in the loop of "Illario is extremely suspicious and the most obvious choice for who betrayed Lucanis → However, Illario seems like he genuinely cares for Lucanis and seemed sincerely distraught in The Wake → I know in my heart it must be Illario: there is no one else with means and motive → If Illario did it, I understand why given how Caterina has treated him and them, and he has arguably earned a bit of a villain era → The situation is ultimately caused by Caterina and Crow politics and, again, Caterina → I don't want it to be Illario because I want he and Lucanis to have a good relationship given all they've suffered together → However, there is already an existing bitterness between them because of the succession question and in Illario generally because he's seen as lesser → Illario is the most obvious choice"

[utterdrip]

“it feels ridiculous to still be thinking about cazador. he’s gone, i’m here — i won.”

[wowa-bublord]

Does your Zack ever get to his true breaking point where everything is just too much to push away and he can't help but show his true vulnerability? And if so, what or who is the catalyst?

OMG I RRRRR I LOVED DRAWING 4 THIS ONE OKAY SO. with the au, zack will reach a breaking point with the way he's handling his emotions by blocking them off/bottling them up. It's inevitable. The question of what/who is the catalyst and not when or if it happens hehehe AND IM SO EXCITED TO ANSWER. Through out the au story, zack is stuck in this sorta mentality.

he's so reliant on Cloud being okay, that he can't focus on anything else (for reasons i can discuss another time). My instinctive reaction, it to think that Cloud waking up would give him enough emotional relief to let down some of those walls. But, then I thought that if Zack bases his emotional wellbeing so heavily on cloud...

then theres not going to be a point where Cloud is suddenly 'okay' enough in Zacks brain to let it out. Life has its ups and downs, recovery from physical/mental trauma like cloud went through especially has its ups and downs. Theres always going to be some excuse for Zack to close up even further, particularly since he chooses to be in a caretaker role for Clouds early recovery when he needs it.

So then my mind hopped over to Tifa and Barret, his two closest friends in this au. But I thought that also could only go so far, Zack wants to appear strong for the people he cares for, and in his mind, he's somehow 'tricked' Barret and Tifa into thinking he's stable and tough enough to be their friend, he doesn't want to risk suddenly being too much. (IMPOSTER SYNDROME GANG RISE UP) And since Zack is so numb to violence and battle, I think it'd take a lot to push him out of that even in physically violent scenarios (u could still try though. whump writers i am on ur side 4ever) And not only that, but Tifa and Barret have only known Zack as he is now. They know that he's definitely a bit weird, but they don't know how far that goes, as this is the only version of Zack they've ever met.

BUT HE OBVIOUSLY will still have his own explosion. It's necessary, it's inevitable. Just look at that guy. So I thought, who else?

and who else could it be if not her?

[kateis-cakeis]

I think what really gets to me with the finale is that Merlin was so close to getting Arthur to the lake. Yet, there was no plan beyond that. It's like even if they did get there, who knows if anything would have happened.

The idea that there was still more tragedy awaiting even if they made it, that yeah despite all of Merlin’s magic, he couldn't save Arthur's life.

It was always the possibility of the Sidhe, but there was no guarantee. It was all hope from the start, endless hope that failed them in the end.

Because well, it was always supposed to happen like this anyway... Arthur was meant to die so he could rise again, there was no alternative

[sweatyhanded]

‘orange blossoms’ comic for the @opflowerszine 🍊

[shadebloopnik]

There's just something about Floyd being unhinged in fics that just gets me.

Like yes he gets portrayed as a sweet frail uwu boi most of the time, which is also niceee and all, and would also suit his sensitive title. But then there are fics where Floyd is absolutely off the rails at times; where Floyd is nearing losing his voice being the loudest in a shouting match, where Floyd nearly bites someone's head off in anger, where Floyd tries to sneak out of his room multiple times even when his body still very much recovering from greeting his grandma, where Floyd wrestles with his brother on the floor because he's about to do impulsive sht for the people he cares about, fics where Floyd absolutely LOSES HIS SHIT

And the best part is that none of it is out of character for him at all. In fact, it'd cement his title as the sensitive one even more. Being sensitive isn't just about sad and mopey. Sometimes its about being nuts, and paranoid, and being impulsive when your loved ones are in danger and being so so angry that you'd yell and cry from the frustration. Not that he's always feral and wild- because he's def the one to mediate most of the time, but in situations where his loved ones are in danger, I just love when he's unapologetically emotional in every aspect about it, when he's sobbing and yelling without abandon.

There's something about Floyd in fics letting his emotions speak in such a powerful, feral way that gets me.

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

Not me genuinely in a dilemma of whether or not I should block someone just for one absolutely ASS take even though it literally won't make a difference from their POV

[luck-of-the-drawings]

smth smth about 'the thing that the character did that you thought was rly rly funny in the moment is actually linked to a terrible trauma that lies within said character.' or wahtever.

[queenie-ofthe-void]

The Babysitter Chronicles - Byers

Steve POV 5+1 (immediately follows s2) || wc: 3.9k || cws: check tags || full fic ao3

Henderson || Mayfield pt 1 / Mayfield pt 2 || Sinclair || Wheeler || Byers || +1 Hopper

Can be read as a standalone

~~~

Steve’s filled with dread, standing in front of the Byers’ front door at 6:30am on a Saturday morning. Out of all the kids’ parents, he’s pushed Joyce off as long as he could manage. But he’d promised Mike he’d try, and according to Jonathan, this is the best time to catch her.

That doesn’t change the fact it’s not even light out, and a boy she probably hates is about to knock on her door. Hell of a way to start the day.

He knocks anyway.

Joyce opens the door in a soft grey t-shirt and baggy black sweats. Her hair is brushed through, mascara coats her long lashes, and the smell of fresh coffee wafts through the open door. At least he can find small consolation in the fact she’s been up for a while.

“Hi Joyce, I mean Ms. Byers,” he stumbles, off to a great start. “Sorry to catch you so early but–” 

“No,” Joyce interrupts, voice firm. 

Steve stands there, mouth hanging open around an unfinished sentence. He watches as her eyes harden. She squares her shoulders and stands straight-backed and tall, only reaching about Steve’s shoulder. Joyce Byers in all her fury still makes him feel small, like maybe this was a bad idea.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Joyce says. “But I know why you’re here. And the answer is no.”

“Oh,” he responds lamely, deflating even further. 

Her voice is soft, but she’s unyielding. “The kids like you, and I know their parents are ok with you watching them. Which is fine, for their kids.”

She pauses, and Steve knows what’s coming. Mentally prepared himself for the worst-case scenario. All of Dustin’s logical arguments and Lucas’ hype talks couldn’t prepare him for how thoroughly Joyce flays him open.

“But, Steve, I would never trust you with my kids.”

Even though he's desperate to run, he plants himself like a tree on her front stoop. He's trying not to be that guy. The kids deserve the best version of him, and on some level, he knows cutting out the bad parts of himself includes letting Joyce Byers drag him through the mud.

He tries to hold her gaze, really he does. Her dark eyes are filled with conviction, but he can see the gentleness to them as well. Almost sad, like he’s making her do this to him. 

Joyce grips the door, knuckles white with tension. She takes a step out onto the front stoop, forcing Steve to take a measured step back. The door stays cracked and the smell of burning toast reaches his nose. Nausea rises in his throat.

“They shouldn’t have even been in those tunnels in the first place,” she says, voice growing louder as she gains momentum. “We asked you to watch them, we trusted you with them, and they still almost got killed! And I know, I know, you helped Jonathan and Nancy last year– saved them from that, that thing crawling out of our walls.”

Her eyes flicker over her shoulder, like the demogorgon’s still haunting her house. He follows her gaze, like Billy could still be standing in her living room with a blood-stained, toothy smile.

She sighs, exasperated. At her wits end for being pushed into a conversation she’s probably been dreading for weeks, since it seems she knew what he wanted. “But you’d be with my baby, my Will, everyday. He’s had bullies since kindergarten, and it’s only gotten worse since everything.

“He doesn’t deserve more bullies. And from what I’ve heard, you’re no different. Just like your father.”

Steve flinches– can’t help himself– the sentence ringing through his head.

Just like your father.

“No, no I’m not, I swear,” he chokes on the words as she steam rolls his pathetic lamentations.

“You’ve pushed my boys– and kids just like them– around your whole life, making them feel small for having less money, less friends, less stuff. Every time Jonathan came home with a new bruise or bloodied knees, how do I know that wasn’t you?”

Steve’s watering eyes are fixated on the small, furious woman before him, flushed with a rage familiar to any decent mother protecting her kids. He’s trying so hard to hear her, but his head is filled with static and his mouth feels stuffed with cotton. Steve wipes his hands down the front of his pants, then shoves them in his pockets.

“You called my boy queer! Something I’m sure you heard from your father. I saved for months to get him that camera for his birthday and you just smashed it, like it was nothing. Like we’re nothing.”

Neither of them notice the pair of shadows moving beyond the door frame in the living room. 

“I cannot allow someone like you around my boys,” she hammers home. This is what Nance meant by a thesis statement he thinks deliriously. “Sue and Karen might be alright with it, but my answer is no.”

Steve sniffles and nods stiffly as turns to leave, hoping to at least make it to his car before the tears start. He knows he deserves what she’s said, knows the truth of it in his gut, but he’s stood here long enough. Now it’s time to run and hide, like his mind’s been screaming to since she set her sights on him.

“Mom,” Jonathan says, out of breath like he ran here from his bedroom. He’s appeared over Ms. Byers’ shoulder like a ghost, or a ninja– silent and on the attack. “What’s going on?”

He’s a sleep-rumpled version of his mom, wearing a plain, soft t-shirt, and grey sweatpants scattered with light bleach stains. Steve notices he still has pillow creases on his left cheek. His gaze follows the red indent down to Jonathan’s jawline where a small, purpling bruise is haloed by faded red lipstick.

All of the air in Steve’s lungs is punched out of him, hard and fast. A feeling he should be used to from Jonathan Byers. 

Steve thinks he sees a flash of pastels in his periphery, dashing through the trees to the road. Or maybe it’s his imagination. It doesn’t matter, because he can’t look away from the uncomfortably familiar mark on Jonathan’s neck.

Jonathan must notice. His hand flies up to his neck, wiping the mark and finding a smear of red on his fingers. The spell holding Steve breaks, and he can breathe again. 

Their eyes meet, and Jonathan’s cheeks now match the stain on his fingers. It’s awkward and Steve doesn’t know how to fix it or how to make this easier. Because Steve never knows how to fix things, only how to break them. Something Joyce seems well aware of.

Distracted, Steve’s just now noticing the small shadow creeping up behind Jonathan. He sees the young boy poke his head out from behind his brother’s back as he takes a small step towards the commotion.

“Steve was just leaving, sweetie,” Joyce answers, voice soft and sweet as she turns away from him to go back inside.

“Wait, no that’s not what I meant,” Jonathan continues. He shakes his head and roughly pushes his unruly bangs from his eyes. “Steve, why are you here?”

Jonathan’s looking at him like he knows the answer. And he should really, considering the only reason Mike agreed to have Steve as his babysitter was because Jonathan promised he’d talk to Will about it, and then they’d talk to Joyce. 

A long train of telephone Steve was relying on to get a head start at Joyce’s good will. Which, apparently, never happened.

Steve plays along into Jonathan’s prompting. She’s already said no, so what’s one more try with a little back-up.

“I was asking if I could babysit Will, since I watch the rest of the gang too. Can’t leave any party members behind,” Steve says, parroting Dustin.

“And I was just telling him–” Joyce starts, before she’s interrupted.

“I think Steve would be a great babysitter,” Will says. His hair’s a mess, and he’s straightening out his matching Star Wars pajama set as he steps further into view.

Joyce rushes over to him, squatting down to meet his eyes. “Will, honey, you don’t need a new babysitter. You can still spend time with your friends at their houses, when their parents are home.” Jonathan takes the distraction to wave Steve into the house, silently closing the door behind them.

“But the other parents don’t know about– you know,” Will hesitates, before mustering up the courage to say “about what actually happened to me.”

“Baby,” she says, gently running her hands up and down his small arms. “You know we can’t tell them. We went over this.”

“It’s not about them knowing the truth,” Will says. Steve watches as the boy tries to make himself bigger, taller, even with the slight shake in his voice. “They just look at me like I’m broken. They’re sad when I’m around and they just think I was kidnapped or lost or– whatever the story is. That I was sick or something.”

Steve can’t help but imagine Will Byers, always the shy, quiet kid in the Party, having to constantly withstand the severely misguided pitying glances from adults who aren’t read-in on vast government conspiracies and alternate dimensions. Steve’s almost nineteen and can barely manage alone.

Her brows are knitted tight and her lips downturned the more Will confesses. “Well, Jonathan can–”

“I don’t want Jonathan to watch me anymore.”

Joyce’s eyes widen, confusion painted across her face as her mouth drops open. Steve turns to glance at Jonathan to find that, unlike his mother, he’s not surprised at all. In fact, there’s a light shining in his eyes and a small uptick to the corner of his mouth.

The tension is thick but familial, leaving Steve unwelcome and gawking at a private conversation. Which he supposes he is: both unwelcome and gawking.

“Go on, Will, it’s ok,” Jonathan encourages. He shines with a proud smile, like he’s watching his little brother walk for the first time. 

Will’s hesitant, his eyes downcast as he shuffles side-to-side. Waiting for him to continue, Joyce stays quiet. Steve can’t help but feel envious of Will and Jonathan at having a mom patient enough to hear her son outright, even when she doesn’t agree with him. She saved him from an alternate dimension, but sometimes the little things are just as important.

“When Jonathan dropped me off at Steve’s for DnD last week, it was fine… at first.”

“You both told me that was at Mike’s,” Joyce interrupts, turning a motherly glare at Jonathan who sheepishly avoids eye contact. She rounds on Steve again, closing the distance between them in three long strides to get in his face. “This is exactly what I’m talking about, Steve. What if something had happened and I didn’t know where to find him because of you?”

“Mom,” Jonathan interrupts, irritated. “That’s not fair. We are the ones who said it was at Mike’s– Will and I. I knew you wouldn’t let him go if you knew it was at Harrington’s place, so I told Will to lie.”

“You’re damn right I wouldn’t have let him go,” Joyce argues, turning back to Jonathan. “He’s not safe there! I know Steve Harrington and I know his parents. What if they had been home?”

“They haven’t been home in weeks,” Steve mumbles. He doesn’t mean to say it out loud, catching himself off guard. Years of practicing the lie, and he slips in front of the last three people on earth he’d want to know about his home life. He’d never complain, not to them. 

She shoots him a confused glance, an emotion behind her eyes Steve refuses to consider. But it seems she’s the only one whose noticed he said anything at all as Jonathan speaks up again. Shaking her head, she shifts her attention back to her son. In the midst of the chaos, Steve breathes a small sigh of relief.

“Mom, it was fine– everything was fine. Just–” Jonathan stops. He gestures to Will to keep going.

Will puffs his chest up, holding his mom’s gaze as he barrels on. “I liked having it at Steve’s. It smells nice, like candles, not like farts and laundry detergent like Mike’s basement. He had all the snacks we like, and he’s got a huge table that can fit all our stuff.”

The kid’s smiling now, and goddamn if it doesn’t melt his heart. Steve’ll be disappointed if Joyce says no, but at least he knows for a fact Will felt comfortable around Steve and liked being at his house.

“But after Jonathan picked me up, Lucas said they stayed up and watched movies all night. That Steve even made an ice cream sundae bar and there were a million toppings.” Will’s arguing is starting to sound like a petulant child, a slight whine to his tone, and Steve can tell Joyce is losing her patience.

“Will, that’s something you and Jonathan can do. We’d love to do sleepover nights with your friends.”

“No, Mom,” Jonathan states, strong in a way Steve’s never seen from him before. His only tell is the waver behind his voice. Steve’s willing to bet Jonathan would rather face down another demogorgon than take on his own mother. Yet here he is, sticking his neck on the line for Will.

“What do you mean, no?” It’s barely a question.

“I don’t want to babysit Will anymore.” He quickly closes his eyes and shakes his head, like an etch-a-sketch. “No, wait– I’m not babysitting Will anymore.”

The room falls deadly silent. Joyce’s lips flatten into a thin, white line, matching the color of her knuckles. She looks ready to explode, like how his father used to look before the first blow. 

Steve flinches when she takes a step towards Jonathan, and she clocks his reaction just like before, but ignores him to glare at her oldest son.

“I want to spend more time with Nancy.” Jonathan’s eyes are wide, like he forgot Steve was there, and he can see an embarrassed flush painting his ears. Steve just shrugs. It is what it is, he’ll get over it like he always does. Jonathan relaxes a bit. “I want to get a job so I can take her on dates that are more than just driving out to the quarry.” 

“Jonathan,” Joyce jumps in, “you can’t get a job. You’re grades are slipping as it is and you don’t have time–”

“Exactly! I don’t have time for a job right now. But if Steve starts watching Will after school and some weekends, I can get a job and keep my grades up and spend time with Nancy.”

She’s shaking her head, but Jonathan plows on before she can jump back into the fray.

“Billy Hargrove is a goddamn monster, Mom. He almost killed Steve! And we all know the kids would’ve found a way to get to the tunnels no matter what. Steve was beat to hell and still went with them.” Jonathan points at Steve’s face in emphasis, like a fucked up version of a pretty model showboating a new car. Except the model is the guy who stole his girlfriend, and the car is a has-been with a fucked up brain and no future.

“And last year,” Jonathan continues, “Nancy and I would be dead if he didn’t come back for us. After everything that happened between us, he had no reason to turn around. Hell, I’m not sure I would’ve.”

He doesn’t know Jonathan Byers well, but Steve knows for a fact Jonathan would’ve faced death to save him– to save anyone. It’s not even a question.

Joyce still doesn’t seem convinced. “Everything that happened last year is exactly what I’m worried about, Jonathan.”

“It’s my fault, not his!” Jonathan shouts. “It’s my fault he got sucked into this mess, it’s my fault Nancy left him, and it’s my fault he broke the camera!” Color drains from his face. Steve freezes, staring at him. 

Steve still hasn’t told anyone why he broke the camera– none of them have talked about it, and he never planned to bring it up. Ultimately he’s thankful that the pictures exist, since it provided the only clue to Barb’s death and the Upside-Down. 

But he doesn’t understand why Jonathan took the pictures. And it doesn’t change the fact Steve closes his blinds every night.

“What do you mean, your fault?” Joyce asks, out of sorts. 

He stammers a bit, looking to Steve for help. Steve doesn’t want to have this conversation at all, let alone in front of Jonathan’s entire family. He glares back at Jonathan, tersely shaking his head once.

Lie.

He gets the gist, relief stark on Jonathan’s face. 

“Steve caught Nancy and I sneaking around when we were looking for Barb and Will,” Jonathan quickly recovers. “We didn’t want him poking around, so we let him think we were flirting. But some pictures I had taken of Nancy fell out of my bag, and Steve saw them. That’s why he broke my camera.

“We ran into him and his friends later while they were spraying up The Hawk. I didn’t know it was all Tommy Hagen’s idea, so I got in Steve’s face and I hit him first. He called me queer, and that’s shitty. But he apologized, saved our lives, and bought me a new camera. So–”

Jonathan turns to him and holds out his hand. It reminds Steve of his father, but also of Hopper, which he decides is a more apt comparison.

He reaches out and Jonathan grasps his hand firmly, shaking it up and down just once, yet continues to hold on. Forging a new pact for the future.

“Steve, I’m sorry about everything.” He seems genuine– eyes wet, shoulders set, and back straight. Steve tries to match his posture. He might not be as good with words as Jonathan, but he can at least show this moment is just as important to him. “But you helped protect the kids so we could save Will. And you saved Nancy and me. So– I trust you.”

Steve can’t handle this. It’s too early in the morning for heavy emotions and deep confessions, but Jonathan’s searching for forgiveness in the face of a former bully. Steve steps up to the plate and meets him halfway.

“I shouldn’t have broken your camera, I know how expensive they are and how much it meant to you. I was angry and I wasn’t thinking. And I, I umm–” 

Steve realizes he’s never really had to apologize to someone before. Sure he’s apologized to Nancy, but it seemed like a normal thing for guys to always apologize to their girlfriends. He’s apologized to Dustin, but that’s more like placating a rowdy toddler. 

This feels different, somehow bigger. Maybe it’s because Jonathan’s his own age, or someone his parents have programmed him to think is lesser than himself. Maybe it’s the deep regret that’s made itself a home in Steve’s stomach, rotting away at the memory of a vicious word spat haphazardly at a stranger.

“I’m sorry I called you queer. That’s fuc– I mean messed– up, and I’m sorry.” Steve sighs, running a nervous hand through his hair, less painful with the stitches removed. He almost misses the stinging sensation. “It’s something my dad says all the time and it was the first thing I thought of, and I hate that. I’m not my dad, I never want to be like him.”

Jonathan nods and pulls Steve forward into a hug, and when they separate Steve feels lighter. A heavy weight he hadn’t known about, removed from his shoulders with Jonathan’s help. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think Jonathan felt the same way by the smile on his face.

“Yeah!” Will shouts, unprompted and overly excited for the tone of this entire conversation. There’s a wide grin on his face when he holds up his hand to high-five Steve and cheers “welcome to the Bad Dads Club!”

Steve scoffs, shocked but completely delighted and confused at Will’s eager declaration. Joyce smacks her hand to her forehead and mutters something like jesus christ under her breath, while Jonathan barks out a laugh. 

He grabs his little brother by the shoulder and shakes him like a rag doll until Will breaks out into giggles. “Will,” Jonathan says, failing to keep a straight face, “remember when I explained the difference between family jokes and not-family jokes?”

Will’s smile fades slightly, red embarrassment splashing his cheeks as he quickly glances between Jonathan and Steve, realizing his social blunder. Jonathan squeezes his shoulder and gives him a sad, reassuring smile. But Steve won’t be the reason for the small frown tugging on Will’s lower lip.

Steve holds out his hand, palm up. He smiles at the kid, eyes alight with mischief. “Bad Dad’s Club,” Steve says, like it’s more than just a fucked up childhood and is instead forging a pact, binding them through one shitty commonality. 

Will returns his smile and high fives him, who then turns to his brother. Jonathan laughs again when he pulls Will in for a hug instead, shrugging at Steve.

Joyce’s gaze travels between the three boys standing in front of her, and Steve can see the moment she cracks.

Her stance has softened. Her lips are still pursed, her eyebrows only slightly furrowed, but her arms hang relaxed at her sides and she’s looking at Steve less like she wants to throw him out and more like she doesn’t know what to do with him.

“You get one week,” Joyce says sternly, pointing a finger in Steve’s face. He goes cross-eyed looking at it, but he can still see Will and Jonathan high-five. “One week of picking him up after school. I get done at Melvald’s at six, so you can bring him home at six-thirty.”

Before Steve can wholeheartedly agree, she rounds on Will and Jonathan next, who stand at attention, trying to stay serious through their own excitement. 

“You,” she points at Jonathan, “better keep your grades up if you’re getting a job.”

“And you,” she gestures to Will, “better have all of your homework done when you get home. If you can’t get it done at Steve’s house, then you don’t get to go.”

She backs away from them, taking a deep breath in and exhaling loudly. “Is all of that clear?”

Waves of yes’s pour from their mouths. Will wraps his arms around his mom’s waist and Jonathan lightly punches Steve’s shoulder. 

“Thank you, Ms. Byers,” Steve says as he turns to leave, “I’ll make sure you don’t regret this. Any of you.”

She sighs, a small sad smile on her face. “I really hope that’s true, Steve.”

On the drive home, he realizes she never mentioned the slip-up about his parents’ absence. He’s grateful for it. Talking with adults has never been his strong suit, and his conversations with each of the kids’ parents are starting to weigh on him. 

The Byers’ might not have as much money or means as the Harrington’s, but that doesn’t stop Joyce Byers from being a damn great mom. So he’s not surprised she took note of his own small mishaps. Maybe she’ll bring it up one day, maybe she won’t. All Steve cares about is that he finally has the opportunity to earn the trust of the fiercest parent he knows.

~~~