#Joyce S.

[withacapitalp]

Reasons

I wrote this for the STWG daily prompt today which was "Joyce" and uhhhhh I'm sorry haha thank you for @stevethehairington and @hairstevington for beta and encouragement and generally being the best of the best!

Read it on ao3 here

The thing Steve had always loved most about the Byers home was the clutter. 

There wasn’t a single surface that was bare. The tv stand was filled to the bursting with scratched up VHS tapes, the bookshelves crammed with dimestore paperbacks. There were always dishes on the kitchen table, magnets holding up dozens of drawings on the fridge, even the hallway was littered with picture frames. It was a complete contrast to the house he had grown up in, with bare cream colored walls and perfectly immaculate rooms. 

It was a mess, and none of the things in the Byers home were worth much, but every item in the home was treasured, important, valued. Everything in their home mattered. 

Now there was nothing left in the house. Nothing but boxes and empty air. 

Boxes.

And Steve. 

And Joyce.

“Where’d Jonathan and the kids go?” Steve asked when the silence had finally grown to be too much, looking around the barren space that used to be the living room. 

Joyce had always apologized for how uncomfortable the couch was. Every single time he had ended up on her doorstep late at night, after every midnight mug of hot cocoa, every midnight conversation where Steve finally finally let some of his anxieties slip out, she had led him over to that couch and wrapped him in a hand me down quilt that smelled old and worn and loved and apologized to him about how lumpy the couch was. 

Steve had never known what she was talking about. He had never slept anywhere that felt more comfortable. 

But the couch was gone now. Probably tucked away in the big box truck outside, or sold at the garage sale they had held last week. Or maybe Joyce had just thrown away like the trash it had always been, finally getting rid of the dead weight of a couch she didn’t really like all that much. 

She probably wanted a new couch for their new house. Something better.  

“They’re all at the Wheelers. Jonathan snuck out around three in the morning to go stay with Nancy tonight, and all of the kids slept over in the basement,” Joyce explained, a wry little smile falling on her lips as she fondly rolled her eyes at her children’s antics, “One last campaign before we hit the road.” 

Steve hummed, acting like this was fresh news to him when he already knew. He was the one that had driven Dustin, Lucas, and Max there. Hell, he had stayed to watch part of the campaign, and to give El and Will one last hug when it was just him and them. 

He wasn’t exactly sure why he was playing along, why he was continuing to pretend, but it was easier than just staring at the place where the couch used to live in complete silence. Better than Joyce knowing exactly how little she knew about Steve’s life these days. 

“I’ve missed seeing you around,” She tried, creeping just a little bit closer to where he was standing, “We haven’t really talked much since…”

Joyce trailed off but they both knew what she was talking about. 

Since the realtor's sign had appeared at the end of the Byers driveway. 

Since Joyce had finally had to admit that she was taking Jonathan, Will, and El away. 

Since their big fight. 

“I’ve been busy,” Steve said shortly, turning away from the living room and towards the kitchen, hoping that would take the spike out of his heart.

No, now the pain was worse, because the kitchen table was gone too, whisked away like it had never existed in the first place. Like Joyce had never sat him down there and patched him up after Billy’s fight, both of their eyes drooping with exhaustion but her fingers still sure and steady. Like Steve had never leaned against it, trying to understand his homework while Joyce did her best to explain why the color of curtains in a story mattered. Like there had never been breakfasts, or dinners, or midnight cups of hot chocolate that were only ever for the two of them. 

Like Steve had never had a place here at all. 

“What do you need from me? You said you needed something,” Steve asked in a rush, turning away from the kitchen as nausea began to bubble over in his stomach. He wanted to run, to break free, to escape Joyce and the house and all of the feelings that came along with it. He just wanted to give her whatever last thing she wanted to take and get away before too much of him broke. 

“I did. I mean is there something else you’re doing today?” Joyce asked, startled by Steve’s sudden shift, “I thought you might want to be here when-”

“Robin and I are going to an interview,” Steve said, interrupting her in a flash. He definitely did not want to be here when they left, and he did not want to be here to say goodbye. He had already done that. He had already said his piece to Jonathan and Will and El. 

Steve had nothing left to give to Joyce.

So why was he here? What could she want from him? 

“It’s a big interview for a job for both of us.” He continued, laying it on thick when they both knew how thin the excuse really was. He and Robin could have done this any day, at any time. Now that the mall was gone, they had their pick of the litter for shitty jobs in town. 

But Steve had purposefully asked Robin to plan the interview for today. He had done it the second Jonathan had told him their moving date. And Robin, saint that she was, had done it without asking why. 

He made his bed, just like Joyce had made hers, and now they both had to lie in it. 

“That’s…that’s great,” Joyce said, crossing her arms over her chest, her fingers twitching like she wanted to go for a cigarette. 

“Besides it doesn’t look like you need me,” Steve said, unable to help himself. He looked around, a bitter smile on his lips, “You’ve got it pretty well handled.” 

“Steve, honey…”

“Don’t,” He said immediately, stepping back when she tried to come forward to console him. That wasn’t her job anymore, it had never been her job in the first place, and Steve wasn’t going to fall for it again. 

He was stupid, but he learned. Eventually, he learned. 

“You already know what I think, and I don’t want to argue.” He said woodenly, the words coming out short and full of static. 

He didn’t want to argue again. Not like last time. 

Steve and Joyce had at least waited until Jonathan and Nancy had ushered all of the kids out of the house before exploding, but once it was just the two of them, it had been a supernova. Steve could barely remember what they had said, but he knew it was bad. That he had claimed she never cared about him at all, and she had told him that he wasn’t her responsibility. 

Steve knew she had called him an entitled brat at some point. 

Steve knew that he had called her a selfish bitch too. 

And he had no way of knowing if Joyce actually thought he was an entitled brat, but he didn’t want to hear it. Not again. It had been hard enough to forget the way it made him feel the first time. 

“It’s not an argument.” Joyce said softly, her voice as fragile as glass as she slowly lowered her hand down from where it had been reaching out to bring him into a familiar, warm, hug, “I just need you to know that it’s over now. I don’t want you looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life, trying to find monsters that aren’t there.” 

“Do you really believe that?” Steve asked, finally looking Joyce in the eye, “Really?”

“Yes,” She said immediately. Steve could see it in her eyes, in her voice, in the way she held herself. 

She did believe it. Joyce really thought it was over. Or, at the very least, she had made herself believe that she believed it.

“Then stay,” Steve whispered, loathing himself for saying it. He had promised himself he would never again beg for someone not to leave, but now he had done it twice in just a month. Twice. Because the first time apparently hadn’t been humiliating enough. 

But Steve’s hope had always been more powerful than his shame, and he couldn’t help but pray that she would listen this time. Joyce would see what leaving was doing to all of them and change her mind. It didn’t matter that the house had already been sold and the truck was already stuffed to the bursting with their belongings, it could all be undone. 

Steve would carry it all back in himself, even. The couch, the kitchen table, the hand me down quilt, everything that had made this house the first place he had actually felt at home. 

She could undo it all. She could put their lives back together, back to the way they had been before, and Steve wouldn’t have to think about it ever again. He wouldn’t have to agonize over how Will and El would adjust to high school without the rest of their friends, or worry about Jonathan being alone in his senior year. He wouldn’t have to think about his own empty house and the bare cream walls that hated him just for existing. 

He wouldn’t have to wonder why he wasn’t enough to care about. Why everyone eventually always left him. 

“If it’s gone, then there’s no reason to leave,” Steve muttered, his eyes burning as he turned them downward to the floor between them, feeling like he was eight instead of eighteen. A child instead of the adult they both knew him to be. 

An adult. Soon to be the last adult left in Hawkins that knew about the Upside Down. The last adult the rest of them had to rely on. 

“There’s a thousand reasons,” Joyce sighed, pulling out her most beloved weapon, “And I have to protect my kids,”

Her kids. Her kids. Not her boys anymore, now her kids, because of El. 

But what about Steve’s kids? What about Max and Dustin and Lucas and Mike and Erica? How was he alone supposed to protect them when the monsters came? 

What about Nancy? What about Robin? They were older, but they were still kids, weren’t they? They still needed someone to be the adult. 

And a quiet, almost silent part of him, couldn’t help asking

What about me?

“From what? If it’s really over, then what are you protecting them from?” Steve asked, a question he had already pressed her to answer in their last argument. 

Joyce didn’t have an answer, because they both knew the truth. This wasn’t about the kids. Not Jonathan. Not Will. Not El. 

It was about Joyce. What she wanted, what she felt like she had to protect herself from. 

And the worst part was Steve understood. He got why she had to leave, why she couldn’t bear to stay here any longer than she had to, but what he couldn’t understand, what he would never understand, was the need to hide behind a shadow. 

“You don’t have to say the truth, but, please, don’t tell me a lie,” Steve said quietly, Joyce sucking in a sharp breath as he carefully threw her own words back in her face. 

She had said it to him dozens of times over the last year, and dozens of times he had caved and told her the truth. 

But Joyce was not Steve. 

“Steve, it's too late to go back on this.” Joyce said firmly, as if her tone would be enough to spontaneously change Steve’s mind. He scoffed, shaking his head and turning away from her to stare out the front window. He welded his lips together, planning to keep his mouth shut and ice her out until Joyce finally got annoyed enough to cut him loose. 

It wouldn’t take long. 

It had only taken her six weeks to pack up their whole lives and completely tear apart Steve’s. 

“I want you to come with us.”

“What?” Steve said, the shock of Joyce’s words enough to make him speak without meaning to. 

“That’s why I wanted you to come here before everyone else,” Joyce said, trying to walk towards Steve again. This time he was too startled to stop her and she entered into his space, a soft smile on her face. The same smile she used to give him when she would push his hair away from his face at night, and tell him that he didn’t need to stay awake. 

That she would be there, and nothing was going to get between her and her boys. 

She had always said it, and they had always both known that she meant more than just Jonathan and Will. 

“I wanted to ask you to come with us,” Joyce repeated, laying a soft hand on his arm. 

“I don’t understand,” Steve said helplessly, his heart starting to race, the bare walls beginning to close in. 

“The house we bought has a little condo next to it that’s free, and I’m sure that Doctor Owens would be able to get it put in your name the way he got mine,” Joyce explained, a plan laid out neatly, too neatly, “There’s lots of jobs out in Lenora, or you could even go to the community college there. Take some classes while you figure out what you want to do?”

This was not a spur of the moment offer. Joyce had to have thought about it before this morning. More than once. 

“You want me to move to Lenora with you guys?” Steve heard himself ask, a spring blossom blooming in his chest without his permission. A little seed of hope that had no reason to exist at all. 

Joyce nodded, her smile growing, and for a second Steve let himself think about it. Truly and honestly think about it. 

He let himself imagine a world where he didn’t go to his interview with Robin this afternoon, and instead stayed here. Packed up the rest of the boxes, hopped in the van with Joyce, and went out to California. Where there was never any snow to shovel, no Mother and Father to disappoint, no dead end job to hate. 

No monsters waiting to jump out of the shadows. 

A life that was only about what he wanted, what Steve thought would be best for him. A life that came with a family that wanted him. 

“It’s over and done and nothing is holding you here anymore,” Joyce pressed, looking around the empty house, “There’s no reason for you to stay.”

And the dream was gone. 

Crushed into bits, shattered like a plate against a skull. 

Steve had reasons, seven of them. Seven people. Seven people who had gone through hell three times for a town that didn’t care and didn’t notice. Seven people who  

Seven people who deserved someone to protect them. Someone who would put them first. 

Steve had never been enough of a reason for anyone to stay, never been enough to put first. Not enough for his parents, not enough for Nancy, and now not enough for Joyce. 

But he would never let his kids think the same about themselves. 

“No, there’s no reason for you to stay,” Steve spat out, hating how bitter he sounded, but hating even more that he had let himself fall for the same trap again. Somewhere along the way he had let those walls down, let another person in, and let her put herself where she didn’t belong. 

That was the truth wasn’t it? They both knew Joyce didn’t fit where they had put her. She was never going to be his mother, and Steve had never fit into her life, but he had played pretend anyway. Ignored all the signs, ignored all the little whispers in his head that told him he was getting too close, trusting too much. He had let her brush his hair, and help him with his homework, and say the words her boys like she meant to include him. 

And now Joyce was just reminding him exactly how much he meant in the grand scheme of things. 

And, really, Steve only had himself to blame for the way his heart was starting to break into tiny impossible to put back together pieces. His mistake. His stupidity. 

He just never fucking learned. 

“At least there no reason to stay that actually ever mattered to you,” He added with a laugh that did not sound at all funny, walking out the door before he could hear another one of her lies. 

#Joyce byers #Steve harrington #hurt no comfort #stranger things #st #st drabble #st3 #post s 3 #yeah this one hurts #Steve has so many issues #stwgdailyprompt

[jimmorrisonfants]

(1985) The Smiths - The Headmaster Ritual

Madrid 1987

#jesus has forgivin slay king yaas baddie slay #this gotta be one of the best lives ever love morrissey #the smiths #morrissey #johnny marr #andy rourke #mike joyce #music #tumblr #video #song #live #album #amazing #rock #80s #80’s #indie #alt #alternitive #discover

[screengoddess]

Joyce Mathews 1939

#Joyce Mathews #1930's #vintage #valentines #vintage hollywood

[atomic-raunch]

Joyce Nizzari

#Joyce nizzari #pinup #vintage cheesecake #50’s pinup #vintage smut #60’s pinup #vintage sleaze

[derangedrhythms]

Joyce Mansour, Modern Poetry in Translation: One Thousand Suns; 'Untitled I', tr. Carol Martin-Sperry

#joyce mansour #modern poetry in translation #one thousand suns #poetry #s

[alicetallulaafterdark]

Stranger Things Rarepair Roulette 2024 - T4T Jopper - 02.04.2024

It was a blast to work on this piece for the @st-rarepair-roulette

First drawing - T4T Jopper - 02.04.2024

I saw a lack of T4T Jopper on AO3 and wanted to add my little contribution to it :3

Done using watercolors, ink pens, colored pencils, alcohol markers and acrylic paint pens

AO3 post / DeviantArt post / Instagram post / Pillowfort post / Twitter NSFW post

#STRR2024NSFW #stranger things rarepair roulette 2024 #stranger thinds rarepair roulette #stranger things #jopper #joyce byers #jim hopper #T4T jopper #transwoman joyce byers #transman jim hopper #lingerie #nsft #nsft art #fanart #tallula03's art

[biillyhargroves]

I know I’ve talked about this before but I'm still out here wishing that Joyce got a moment with Billy, because you know that woman would clock what’s going on within five seconds of seeing that kid and she’s not the kind of person who sits back and lets others get hurt. This is the woman who fought to get away from her own abuser, who pulled her sons out of that fire, who took one look at Eleven and decided “I’m your mom now.” Joyce doesn’t let kids fall through the cracks, and Billy deserved at least one person in his life who’d stand up for him, who’d look out for him, who’d show him a single ounce of kindness.

Joyce’s entire personality is built around protecting others, and Billy has never had a single person protect him in his entire life. HIs mother left. His father beats him. His step-mother stays quiet. Grown women, mothers themselves, fawned over him, sexualizing and commodifying his youth, never seeing him as a full person, just a body to gawk at and objectify. Every single adult in his life has failed him, and nothing would enrage Joyce more than knowing that there’s a child whose had to live his entire life walking on eggshells and fighting for control, for safety, for security. A child living the life her boys could have fallen into if she hadn’t made the right choices, if she hadn’t loved them more than she did herself, if she hadn’t valued her children over a marriage that, let’s face it, was probably doomed from the start. She’d be furious to know that nobody, not one single person, had ever looked at Billy the way she looked at Jonathan and Will and Eleven, that no one had stepped up for him, that no one had put him first in their hearts.

Joyce Byers is five foot, three inches of pure Mama Bear Energy and she wouldn’t be able to stand by and let a child get hurt. I have zero doubts that she’d stand toe-to-toe with Neil to give him a piece of her mind, any time, any place, because how dare a grown man lay a hand on a child? (And of course, Hopper would be terrified at all of this, because if this man is willing to harm his own son, what might he do to a stranger butting into his business? But that’s the beauty of Joyce: she doesn’t care. Sure, Neil is bigger than Lonnie, probably stronger than Lonnie, and yes Billy is strong himself, but this is not a burden for a child to carry and she would be hellbent on lifting as much off his shoulders as she could.)

Joyce is the person that Billy deserved. She’d see right through his charm; she’d never fall for the cocky smile, the little winks, that sultry voice he puts on when he’s trying to impress someone. She’d know that it was all an act and she’d get to the bottom of it, and when she saw what was there she’d do whatever she could to help him. She’d mom the hell out of that kid, and he’d have no idea what to do with that, how to react to this genuine love and kindness from a stranger, but maybe one day he’d realize it was how he truly deserved to be treated all along.

#and don't even get me started on how Joyce would react to Karen's behavior #watching a grown-ass woman swoon over a teenager? NO MA'AM. #NOT ON JOYCE"S WATCH #joyce byers #billy hargrove #stranger things meta #stranger things headcanons

[stairnaheireann]

#OTD in 1941 – James Joyce, considered by many to be one of the most important modern authors in English because of his revolutionary approach to the novel, dies in Zurich.

When I die Dublin will be written in my heart. –James Joyce James Joyce published ‘Portrait of the Artist’ in 1916 and caught the attention of Ezra Pound. With ‘Ulysses,’ Joyce perfected his stream-of-consciousness style and became a literary celebrity. The explicit content of his prose brought about landmark legal decisions on obscenity. Joyce’s relationship with his native country was a complex…

View On WordPress

#6 June #Bloomsday #Dublin #Finnegan&039;s Wake #Ireland #Irish History #Italy #James Joyce #Leopold Bloom #Nora Barnacle #Paris #Ulysses #Writer #Zurich

[allgarbo]

In the Dragonette household there are beautiful paintings, fine books, recordings by or of Sarah Bernhardt, James Joyce, Edna St. Vincent Millay, Walt Whitman. At a breakfast, Garbo asked for a copy of Leaves of Grass and did a beautiful reading of an obscure poem from the volume. Only recently she asked again to hear the Bernhardt and Joyce recordings."Garbo is basically extremely honest," says Nadea. "Most people don't understand this. She reads anything and everything, but she never talks about things she doesn't understand thoroughly. She'll say nothing. She can't participate all the time, she's too honest. And so she retreats and people think she's mysterious. The mystery is something that people read into her. Every friend has a completely different view of her, that's how complex she is. That's the canvas.” 

Greta Garbo photographed by Cecil Beaton c. 1946  

#greta garbo #cecil beaton #sarah bernhardt #james joyce #edna st. vincent millay #walt whitman #40's #*

[rotzaprachim]

vaguely minx-y au in my mind where leia organa is an early 70’s hardcore feminist and L.A. ALIANZA is the bilingual leftist news publication. she inherited from her late father and is struggling to keep afloat by any means possible, even if those means end up being separate erotic magazine imprint to keep the lights on. Han Solo is one of the models willing to take his kit off for four hundred dollars

#This makes sense in my head but I think Joyce and shayne are like. Real leia and han vibes #And I’ve been looking for a good 70’s au for a long time

[snufkinsnogger]

Sketch dump Graveyard of self shipping art IG lol

#I drew Snuf with my S/Is hair in that one yes lol #Joyce and Hopper meme #Experiment with taller S/I #self insert community #selfship imagines #selfshipping #selfship #self shipping #selfshipper #self ship #self insert #self shipper #sunburnedsnufkin #au #alternate universe

[tryingtoremembermyname]

« don’t take it so personally… i don’t like most people. »

jonathan byers moodboard - season 1

other moodboards

#stranger things #jonathan byers #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #Billy Hargrove #introvert #moodboard #mike wheeler #will byers #joyce byers #jim hopper #st4 #stranger things season 1 #dustin henderson #strangers things fanfiction #x reader #aesthetic #80’s vibes #lucas sinclair

[garadinervi]

Margery S. Hellmann, James Joyce, Wavewords: From Ulysses, (letterpress on die-cut board), The Windowpane Press, Seattle, WA, 1996, Edition of 50 [Set in Optima and Arrighi types, text letterpress printed on Rives BKV & UV Ultra papers, inset title paper label] [Walker Art Center, Minneapolis, MN. © Margery S. Hellmann]

#graphic design #typography #art #visual writing #structure #book #margery s. hellmann #james joyce #ulysses #bloomsday #bonnie thompson norman #the windowpane press #walker art center #1990s

[odk-2]

Joyce Nizzari 1960's Color Transparency by Bunny Yeager

#Joyce Nizzari #Bunny Yeager #Pin-Up #Color Transparency #color photography #1960's

[thequietabsolute]

No. The corpse of John Shakespeare does not walk the night. From hour to hour it rots and rots. He rests, disarmed of fatherhood, having devised that mystical estate upon his son. Boccaccio's Calandrino was the first and last man who felt himself with child. Fatherhood, in the sense of conscious begetting, is unknown to man. It is a mystical estate, an apostolic succession, from only begetter to only begotten. On that mystery and not on the madonna which the cunning Italian intellect flung to the mob of Europe the church is founded and founded irremovably because founded, like the world, macro and microcosm, upon the void. Upon incertitude, upon unlikelihood. Amor matris, subjective and objective genitive, may be the only true thing in life. Paternity may be a legal fiction. Who is the father of any son that any son should love him or he any son?

— James Joyce, from Scylla and Charybdis; Ulysses.

#james joyce #ulysses #homer #giovanni boccaccio #william shakespere #s&c has to up there as one of my favourite episodes in the book; a top 3 surely? ... top five certainly #Proteus obviously; Ithaca ... Calypso is a conspiracy of charm and a must; Oxen has opened up for me over the last few years too #Hades would have to be up there - alone it'd rival The Dead... Telemachus and Nestor are timeless; vital; mesmeric; haunting; irrepressible #also why are commas forbidden in tags yet the semi-c remains permissible? -- something dissonant in that #but yes; dah & sigh (!!) ... Ulysses will never pall or age or cease to offer up new discoveries for me #n.

[lighthouseas]

happy to report i completely missed any and all of the disk horse that apparently happened last night!!!!

anyways, have you ever thought about miwi getting lost in a mall and will gets scared and starts crying because he knows his mom is gonna be worried, but mike reassures him that everything is okay and sneaks them into a candy store so can mike try stealing all of the reeses cups to make will feel better because he knows it's his favorite candy. unfortunately though, the manager catches him and ends up calling security and that's how karen and joyce eventually find their sons sitting inside a candy store with a bag of reeses cups that were gifted to them by the store workers because they thought they were so cute

#will *with chocolate all over his face*: hey mom!!! look what me and mike got !!!!!! #joyce *on the verge of having a full blown panic attack*: that s very nice honey ! #mike *mouth full of chocolate*: mm mm :)))) #idk what this is . they r so . they r so precious 2 me #stranger things #byler #miwi #mike wheeler #will byers #st.txt