#post-starcourt

[devondespresso]

(found this bad boy in my drafts and honestly i loved reading it again so we're gonna post it. wahoo)

my personal canon for post-starcourt stobin is that they're actually inseparable for the first month or so

im talking steve taken to the hospital for his injuries and the staff having to force them apart and call security. im talking they have to drag robin kicking and screaming to a different room because last time Steve left her sight he was dragged back lifeless and presumably dead (i firmly believe they intentionally used physical torture for steve and to use his condition for psychological torture for robin)

and steve waking up half-present in a cold plain room alone? might as well be back in the bunker. and if theres doctors trying to run tests and examine his wounds? might as well be Russian soldiers standing over him and touching his injuries. hurting him again. possibly planning to hurt Robin next.

and now hospital staff are trying to deal with two screaming desperate teenagers who keep begging for the other in between rambles of nonsense and they can't run tests or do their jobs or even get answers from them because all these two seem to care about is the other teen

so they don't really have any practical choices other than moving them to a combined room. and they still freak out every now and then but having the other in the room keeps these outbursts much shorter and doctors are able to actually run tests and help these kids as long as they're close together. And when Robins blood tests and everything come back ok and shes able to be discharged, shes given special permission to stay in the room at all times

and the two little kids that came in with them? they're not exactly freaking out quite like the teens but they're certainly not making things easy either. Ericas testing the willpower of any doctor or nurse she can speak to and both kids stay as close as they can at all times and refuse to leave the hospital. visiting hours over? they're in the waiting room, even convinced a couple to move so they can have seats closest to the hall that teens room is in. try to call their parents? good luck getting a full name or number out of them. once their parents do come get them they're showing back up in an hour, bikes lodged in the bike rack and back in their seats. they've been stopped for sneaking in several times and caught hiding under one of the teens beds even more often. eventually staff just gets tired of spending half their shift wrangling two middle schoolers and it becomes an unspoken agreement to just ignore them hiding in the room.

And once Steve is discharged its the same thing all over again. Robins parents were worried about her spending all her time in the hospital with the boy from her summer job, but given the cover story about the fire and the pair getting trapped inside they convinced themselves its reasonable to want to stay by your friends side while they recover

but now that hes out, shes asking if she can spend the night at his house? and his parents won't be there? absolutely not. except robins in no mindset to accept leaving him alone for this long let alone overnight so she tried sneaking out to bike over to his before he can get the dumb idea to drive over in the middle of the night post-concussion. but the buckleys notice shes gone either because she makes too much noise sneaking out or they notice the severe lack of Robin-trying-to-be-quiet noises into the night (robin my tism queen definitely has bump-into-shit syndrome in the middle of the night but she also doesn't make any noise sneaking around the base with scoops troop so i think it's a 50/50 weather she can use the adrenaline to sneak out to see steve quietly)

so they put two and two together and drive over to the Harrington house. steve answers the door and calls robin over, both of them looking sheepish but not exactly guilty. they talk on steves couch (yes Steves there too) and stobin does their best to explain their separation anxiety that gets the severity across without getting them sent to a mental hospital all while making sure not to break any ndas (which ends up being a long conversation with stobin trying to translate their experience in the bunker to fit the cover story well enough, which is very different when the real story is kidnapping and the fake one is a building fire)

eventually they reach an understanding of "we're worried this is kinda unhealthy but its clearly more stressful to try and separate you right now and we're definitely not going to be able to stop you" so they compromise to let steve stay at the buckleys for a little bit so they can at least keep an eye on them. at first they try just letting steve sleep on the couch (which they agree to because steve worried about overstepping as the guest in their house) but one or both of them have nightmares the first night and robin ends up on the couch with him anyway.

after a few nights they get the gist of the stobin dynamic: attached so strongly its concerning but nothing... flirty. anything they do is always completely innocent. hand holding with no heart eyes, banter with no tension, hell even sharing a bed they resemble little kids in a sleepover pile more than lovers. and especially after nightmares they'll find robin holding steve like hes just one of her old teddy bears.

of course theyre still cautious and have their suspicions that theyre secretly dating and just really good at hiding it, they're paranoid parents after all and robins never shown this much attention to a boy ever. but they do relax a bit with it as they're more confident theres no... funny business.. going on. or at the very least nothing thats going to leave robin hurt. they'll have their talks and robin will promise its "nothing like that", but they've grown to like steve so they're sure robin will come to them when shes ready.

now if only there was a reasonable explanation for the middle schoolers that keep showing up. apparently they were also trapped in the fire with robin and steve which helps make some sense of it, but they also sat with them in the hospital. surely if they're having nightmares about the fire they'd go to their parents? they hadn't really talked much with the sinclairs but they seemed like very loving parents and robin follows steve to his little dinners with mrs Henderson pretty often so its not likely that they can't go to their parents about nightmares, but they seem to prefer going to steve specifically. like ringing the Buckley's doorbell at 1 in the morning asking if steves there. and of course they'll let them in and show them to robins room (after calling their parents first, do they even know their childs run off?) where steve was sleeping in a pallet on the floor but is now a glorified blanket pile robins hugging. on her bed, of course. because god forbid theres 2 feet of space between them.

and the kid just joins them in their sleepover pile, dustin usually clinging to steves other side like a baby koala and erica usually finding a spot leaning against robin or occasionally making room in between them

and so more often than not the Buckley's have not one, not two, but three extra children in their house that isn't their daughter, all of them sleeping in a pile on robins bed like theres nowhere else they'd rather be

[elowmojo]

Billy Hargrove 1986 VENICE BEACH CALIFORNIA Photo ref

[bylrlve]

So…

A host for Starcourt Study Hall posted on r/byler a couple of weeks ago, asking for information about Byler for a ship episode she and her co-host are planning. This podcast not only does breakdowns of each episode of the show, but does episodes digging into themes, theories, MBTI testing of particular pairings, and, you guessed it, ships.

They’ve done episodes on Jancy, Lumax, Stancy, Jopper (an MBTI and a ship one), and Mileven. I reached out through reddit DM and have been communicating with her since. I’ve sent posts by @emblazons, @queerxqueen, @kidovna, @givehimthemedicine, @chirpsythismorning @gayofthefae @snacksizedgates @tryingonametaphor @doriandrifting @starbylers @conflictofthemind @aemiron-main @byler-alarmist @mikesbasementbeets @sennqu and @theninaproject - yep, this is an exhaustive list. I also linked her to my blog archive so she can see my reblogs and posts.

The first episode script is 1 hour 8 mins. Yes, I said first, because the second episode will be out next Wednesday 16/9.

The host I’ve been communicating with, Marina, has told me that she’s now fully on-board with byler, ‘hook, line, and sinker’, that she’s excited, and that she thinks it makes more sense of a lot of things re: Mike. She also concluded that it ties into broader themes and makes the show richer. Bylers? Are not crazy.

ETA; this week’s ep covers s1 and 2, and next week’s covers s3 and 4.

[italiansteebie]

The first time Steve is exposed to subculture, it changes his life. The sneer his mother gives ins't surprising, but Steve can't help but be entranced by the glinting silver on this random man's body.

They're everywhere, in his nose, lips, and when he flicks his tongue out, Steve even catches sight of the shining jewelry in his tongue. And maybe Steve was already 13, practically grown up at this point, but he sees this man and thinks, that's who he wants to be when he grows up.

Unfortunately, that is not how things go.

His mother sees him studying the style of the delinquent in front of them and smacks his lightly on the head. "You have a reputation to uphold, Steven," She mutters through gritted teeth. So Steve hangs his head, and his dreams of looking like the colored haired boy he saw in the grocery store.

So years later, he's still adorned in polo shirts and light washed jeans. He's snuck in some goofy hair, but it's no where near what he'd want it to be ideally.

And here's the thing, he knew his family's reputation was important, but now that he's been denied from every college he applied to, including tech, and he's been lowered to serving ice cream in a sailor uniform, he wonders just how important the reputation was.

--

He can't help but wonder if he's going to die like this.

Covered in vomit and blood, in a sailor outfit on a dirty bathroom floor curled up to a lesbian, who he thinks maybe his soulmate. Platonically, of course.

"I've always wanted, like- colored hair. 'Nd piercings 'nd stuff. Y'know." Steve said, letting his head fall against Robin's shoulder. "Why haven't you?" Robin asked, resting her head on his. Steve shrugged, "Reputation, I guess. I think my parents would commit homicide."

Robin snorted, "If only they could see you now," she giggles. Steve shifts to retaliate, but can only laugh along with her. Steve nods, laughing harder when an angry looking Dustin and Erica barge into the bathroom.

--

They make it out alive.

Somehow. But they do.

And that's how they ended up here.

"Rob, are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Of course it is! Look, Eddie is probably the only punk adjacent guy for miles, and he probably knows about all those records you think you hide in your closet."

"You've seen those?"

Robin shrugs, "When there's a box labeled 'do not open' in King Steve's closet, you take a look. It doesn't matter! I'm sure he knows who Iron Maiden is!"

The door swings open, "Of course I do."

Eddie Munson stands in front of them in all his glory.

"Told ya." Robin says, a light sneer on her face. Steve shoves her over, before looking back at Eddie, about to speak before he cuts him off. "I know Iron Maiden, what I don't know, is why King Steve is on my front porch with Robin from band. And why he's asking about Iron Maiden of all things." Eddie looks a bit like he want's to turn them away, but he steps back and opens the door wider, motioning for them to come in.

Once they're all milling about Eddie's tiny living room, Steve starts. "I know you've got this whole," Steve gestures at Eddie, "Metal head look going on and, well. I need some advice. Guidance, if you will." Robin nods along with him. "Yeah, a lot of guidance. He want's to get his nose pierced, but he only has polos."

Steve scoffs at this. "I have band shirts, Buckley. I'm just not allowed to wear them. But no more! I'm fully embracing this side of me."

Eddie watches, slightly amused, "So what do you need my help for?" He asks, eyebrow arching. "I need you to pierce my nose. Or at least tall me where to go," Steve rambles, shifting from foot to foot.

He watches as the metal head mulls this over. Eddie sighs, and shakes his head, Steve's shoulders dropping. "C'mon, Rob. He's not gonna do it, let's just go." He says quietly. "Woah, hey! I never said I wouldn't do it. I just don't uh- Why me?"

"You're the only person I thought could be helpful." Steve admits, watching as a smirk spreads across Eddie's face. "Alright then, big boy. Step into my office."

Steve follows Eddie into the bathroom, Robin hot on his heels, watching in some combination of awe and fear as Eddie pulls out. needle from the medicine cabinet. "Oh shit," Steve breathes. Eddie raises an eyebrow, but moves on. "Stay here while I get the jewelry."

"You okay, Steve? Oh my god, you're shaking." Robin frets, "Do you wanna back out? We don't have to do this." She says, grabbing Steve's hand. Steve swallows thickly, "I- I want to. I just. The needle is really freaking me out. I keep seeing that fucking syringe." Robin nods, rubbing Steve's shoulder, laying her head on his shoulder.

Eddie comes bounding back into the bathroom, "Hey- woah. Am I interrupting? No PDA in the trailer, please." He laughs. Steve and Robin jump away from each other, "Oh ew. He is so not my type," Robin groans.

"Whatever, let's do this Stevie. We're doing your septum, right?"

Steve tilts his head, and Eddie sighs "The one right here," Eddie places his hands on his own septum. "Oh, yeah. That one." Eddie nods, getting to work.

Eddie lies the needle up with Steve's nose, "Okay, breath in," Steve follows, "And breath out," Eddie instructs, and slides the needle through. In a fluid motion, Eddie slides the jewelry in, screwing on the ball and checking his work.

"Alright, we're all done, Steve-o." Eddie says, patting his cheek, before looking up at the boy. He looked a bit pale. "Steve?" He asked, before Steve promptly passed out, flopping to the floor in a boneless heap. "Oh, shit. Steve!" Robin cries, bending down. Eddie freezes for a second, "Oh shit. Okay. He probably just fainted, it happens sometimes. Lemme get him some water." He practically leaps through the trailer to grab some water.

He's back in the bathroom right as Steve comes to, "Scoops! I work for scoops, please!" He's shouting, there's tearing streaming down his face and Robin is there next to him, holding him close. "Shh, Steve. We're in the trailer, remember? Eddie's trailer? He pierced your nose." Robin soothes.

Eddie moves in closer, "yeah, I uh. I got you some water," he says, handing him the water. Steve grabs it with a shakey hand, "Thanks, Munson." He breathes, tears slowing. "Uh. Sorry. I had a long month. Y'know," Steve shrugs, and it leaves Eddie reeling. Was he just going to pretend this didn't just happen? The guy was still sitting on his bathroom floor. "Steve, seriously? Look, just sit here, I'm gonna go call someone to pick us up." Robin sighs, before making her way out of the small space.

"Are you okay," Eddie asks, sincerely, "No." Steve answers, voice cracking as he does so. "I was in that mall fire last month, and the hospital trip involved a lot of needles. I guess I didn't realize they still kind of freak me out." Eddie nodded in understanding. "I get that. I couldn't look at a blue chevy for the longest time cause it reminded me of my dad."

Steve sighed, "Thanks for doing this, Eddie. Hey, uh. How much do I owe you?" Eddie waved his hand, "It's all good, Harrington." He dismissed. Steve shook his head, "No way man, I gotta pay you back somehow." He insisted.

Eddie mulled it over, "take me to dinner?" He asked, before realizing what the fuck he just said, "I mean- fuck. Not- I didn't" He scrambled to his feet. Steve grabbed his hand, "Eddie, wait. It's fine."

"Fine? I asked you on a date. If you hadn't just passed out in my bathroom, I'm positive you would've decked me by now!" Eddie squealed. Steve shook his head, "I- I like both, Eddie. Y'know, boys and girls. And honestly. I'd love to go on a date with you," Steve said, smiling up at him.

"Steve! Joyce's here to pick us up since you died!" Robin called from the living room. Eddie helped Steve stand, and walked him to the living room. Steve leaned a little heavier into his side, "I'll call you when I'm a little less weak in the knees, okay?" Steve said softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek before following Robin outside.

"Thanks again, Eds!" Steve called once he was in the car.

Eddie couldn't wait for that phone call.

[nyabr0]

ooo stobin blurb that i wrote at like 2 am

idk how to title this but i wanna post it so here

---

Steve’s lying to her. Robin knows it.

He lies every time she asks if he’s alright; lies right through his teeth because the great Steve Harrington has never relied on anyone for anything, and he’s not about to start now.

Steve’s lying, and Robin sees it. She sees it every time she enters the room and Steve straightens up a little more. She sees it in the way he has to focus a little harder on the road while he’s driving, or when he’s working a little too hard to formulate a string of words. She sees the darkening bags under his eyes, the way he’s dead on his feet no matter where they go or what time of day it is, the way he’s thinned out a little too much and in the sluggish sort of way he’s started to move.

Gone is that slightly too obnoxious kid with all the bravado and charm of a late night talk show host. In his place? Someone Robin doesn’t quite recognise.

Yes, Steve is lying, and Robin’s had enough.

She confronts him where she knows he’s not expecting it; his bedroom. It’s rare she actually comes into the house. Something about his parents flipping out if they find out he’s had anyone over.

But she knows where to catch him, and where it’ll be private. Hopefully it’ll help him keep his guard down.

The first thing she notices is the mess.

It’s messy

Messier than the room of a freshly twenty two year old should be. Messier than she knows Steve to be.

She doesn’t fail to notice the way Steve tenses and straightens up when she knocks on the wall beside the door. She watches the brunette jump, tired eyes darting to the doorway.

“What are you-?”

Robin doesn’t bother allowing him to respond as she slumps against the frame. “You really should lock your front door. That’s how things get stolen.”

It’s an attempt at a joke; a tease that she hopes with prompt Steve to lighten up a little. Instead, he only cracks a half smile and reaches up to rub the back of his neck, blunt nails dragging over the skin hard enough that Robin can see thin red lines forming under them.

“Right,” he breathes, “I guess I forgot…”

The sentence sort of trails off and Robin bites back a grimace. That’s not like her Steve. He was always so sure of himself - it was part of the reason she hated him. Part of the reason she admired him.

She pushes on. Keeps the conversation light, but doesn’t lose track of her goal.

“Up for something to eat?” she watches as Steve unfolds and begins to refold the same shirt he’s been working on since before she entered the room. There’s a large pile of laundry on the bed, but it appears to have hardly been touched.

Steve takes a minute too long to respond. Meanwhile, Robin notes the cautious way Steve moves. Almost scared to move too fast.

“Uh…no. No, I’m not really that hungry.”

Again, Robin bites her tongue. ‘Keep it cool, Buckley.’

“You sure? We can even go to that Italian place you like. I know how you love to bitch about the pesto, or the pasta, or the pasta and the pesto.”

Steve shakes his head. He turns his back to her, apparently having decided that this shirt had been folded enough and finally moving on to another.

“I’m fine.”

Robin sucks in a short, grounding breath and closes her eyes briefly. She then steps fully into the room, reaching to grab Steve’s arm so she can turn him around.

“Steve, c’mon, I know something’s-“

She can’t finish her sentence. As soon as her fingers graze Steve’s bicep, he’s whipping around, eyes suddenly wild like he’s a caged animal.

He doesn’t move with anger, but with fear. He’s not startled, or upset, or even fed up with Robin. He’s terrified.

Robin then finds herself wondering when the last time Steve has let her touch him was. When the last time Steve has let anybody touch him was.

She can’t wonder long, though, because almost immediately after the jerking movement, Steve’s stumbling. The whole thing only lasts a second or two, but time slows.

Robin watches the consciousness leave his face, hears the weak grunt and notices the attempt to catch himself before he’s collapsing.

Steve hits the ground, Robin moves to kneel beside him, and suddenly she’s back in that room. Not Steve’s bedroom, but the cold, echoing cell beneath Starcourt. The blueish hue is painted into the fabric of her mind, the sirens from months ago making her ears ring all over again.

She remembers the crack Steve’s skull made on the stone floor and finds herself checking his wrist for a pulse the way she had done back in July; can almost feel the Russian grunts looming above her.

“Steve!” she shouts. Her own voice doesn’t feel real. It’s distant and cloudy. “Jesus, Steve, don’t-“

Her eyes are filling with tears, her heart is racing a million miles a minute, she can feel her breathing reaching that panicked shake that she’d thought she’d never feel again and-

He’s groaning. Beneath her, Steve’s groaning, and then she’s back in his bedroom. The shag carpet reminds her that she’s safe. Steve’s safe. They are safe.

Finally, time is normal again, and Robin is pulling her friend up and into her arms with a shaking gasp. She grips onto him, balling her fists in the fabric of the sweater she’s pretty sure he hasn’t taken off in at least a week. She’s got half a mind to reprimand him for it, but then she feels Steve’s arms around her, clinging to her just as intensely as she is to him.

The fear fades completely and finally she can hear normally again.

“I’m sorry.” he’s whispering. Almost pleading. “I’m sorry, Robs, I don’t- I didn’t-“

She shushes him. She doesn’t need apologies or explanations. They can work this out, as long as he just tells her the truth. She tells him as much, he nods, and they sit.

Steve’s not going to lie anymore. Robin knows it.

[badboysteve]

Steve and Robin, post-confession:

[rotting-inkblot]

billy hargrove is a scraggly golden retriever stray whos been kicked too many times and bites anyone and everyone who gets close, even if they're simply reaching out to pet him or give him food.

anyways.... Steve's obsession and fixation on hair and hair care :)

[source]

[vacantwatchers]

Working a dead end job in the middle of a shopping mall—that was singlehandedly destroying the family owned stores he'd frequented his whole life, where he knew the owners and the layouts and it was cheaper and guaranteed to last and he had to be in a fucking commercial promoting it—in the fucking food court was like begging for death. It was nothing but a constant stream of kids from high school asking him between snickers where he was going to college. All the while knowing full well that even with his mom and Mrs Henderson helping him rewrite his entrance essays he didn’t get in anywhere. The longer the summer dragged on with only Robin Buckley there to break the monotony with sarcastic comments and fake sympathy as she added another tally to her YOU SUCK column, the more he missed hanging with his stupid juvenile delinquent kids. 

Granted, he saw some of them what felt like every day.

Mike barging in, sour look permanently in place, as the rest of them followed behind like awkward ducklings to use their store's access to Starcourt's bowels. All so they could sneak into the movie theatre without getting caught. Which he had brought on himself because he's the one who had shown Lucas. But they weren’t the ones he cared that much for.

Well.

Okay. Lucas was the exception because fuck, that kid was so nice, and so kind and if he had the ability to, Steve would have him and Dustin with him constantly. But for whatever reason, the kid was happy to hang out with Baby Wheeler who was the worst. Out there with his little pinched face all the time like—like—Lemon Face Wheeler. Drenched Cat Wheeler. Stank Lines Personified Wheeler.

Steve was being too hard on the kid. He was better than this.

Who was he kidding.

No he wasn't.

Second Best Wheeler, who loses every single time to the perfect and sweet Miss Holly. 

Okay, now he was done.

Being around Lucas and Dustin however meant he had the painful privilege of sitting, unwillingly, in the front row to Will constantly sighing and watching and yearning even though Mike wouldn’t even look at Will this year with how obsessed he was with Eleven. Regardless of it, and even looking exasperated about them, Will still looked at him with the biggest, wettest, saddest eyes he could. 

So okay. 

He would never advertise the fact that he had a tier list for the kids, honestly wouldn't be able to explain what with how often it fluctuates depending on who pisses him off at the time. But right now? Mike? With the shit he was pulling? Bottom last. F tier, or whatever it's ranked at. 

He didn't care much for Mike at all. 

Okay—

That was a lie.

He liked the little asshole a lot, but as he was right now, Steve could only handle small doses. 

What he really wished he could do, was direct Will towards the kids he knew would be into him. There weren't many kids like Will, like himself, in Hawkins. But after his experiences, Steve had learnt to read the signs. And there are some very decent, not Mike, contenders. Like that angry little freshman who joined the school band and that dungeon game club. Steve got vibes off him, but there was only so much Steve could pick up while watching from a distance as that kid alternated the tables he sat with.

Besides, he’d had better things to focus on.

Like the fact there was a guy who sat at the table beside the game club table, Jimmy, with pretty black hair and who alternated wearing a padlock and dog collar around his neck, and who Steve was very distracted by a couple of weeks as he explored what was hidden beneath that painted leather jacket.

But he can't argue with the big eyes. 

The big eyes meant business, they meant emotional attachment.

No, the kids he really missed being around and spending time with was Dustin and Max. Dustin, who still managed to call him every two days at 6pm like clockwork from camp. He had to tell him everything that was happening there, and that he’d met a girl and she was the most beautiful person he had ever seen. Steve lost track sometimes though, of whether Dustin was talking about her or whatever science thing he was making. Both topics had a concerning overlap in endearments used. Max was a different case, because her actions were policed a lot more thanks to the heavy eye of her step-dad, who wouldn't let her go anywhere without a set timeline and a known ride home. And seeing as that ride home tended to be Billy, she decided she had to be sneaky when it came to hanging with him purely because, “I don’t want you getting your ass handed to you again, Harrington. I’ll come to you when I want to hang.” 

Which she did. She radioed him when she wanted to talk and he’d given her his shift schedule for the month as it came out, shown her where the spare key was hidden, and would regularly find her in his living room watching TV, or in the kitchen making him food depending on the time he walked through his front door. It figures Max would somehow manage to find a pocket of time when both his parents were in separate parts of the globe, prohibiting him from introducing her to actual positive parental figures. 

He’d disappear to shower off the sticky nauseating smell that clung to his skin and embedded in his uniform, and would come back to see her swamped in one of his jumpers, a stack of VHS waiting on his coffee table for him to pick from. Sometimes she would follow him up to his room and flick through his records.

Riffling through the crates by his stereo, Max would somehow always find something to comment on as she went. “I can't believe you seriously listen to Miami Sound Machine, dude. Don't even try to lie and say it's your mom's.” 

Steve shrugged, “I like Dr. Beat.”

She was silent for a bit before flipping quickly past twelve records,“How does the preppiest jock dude I know have this much metal? Who the hell are Metal Church and Demon, anyway?”

“Bands my dad's worked with in the past. They're good, Metal Church has great basslines.”

“Do you seriously own every single Talking Heads album? Bruce Springsteen, yeah okay, I expect that, Prince I even get, all the Queen was a shock, but somehow this is surprising.” 

At some point, her questioning his music taste was going to get old. But it hadn't yet, so he'd keep answering. “You want me to listen to those weird sounds and tonal inflections and not become fixated? Have you listened to Girlfriend Is Better?”

He'd put on a record and they'd listen while he told her about the bands he listened to and which bands reminded him of which, the way he connected music by certain sounds rather than genre. Tell her about his dad being a tech for a couple of them, that some were the very first pressings given only to the band members and crew who worked on the record. Other times Max would flick through and find some big brass jazz band and have him teach her Spanish while clarinets and trumpets rang brightly in the background.

Between her and Dustin, his off hours were full of bickering and laughing and painful elbows to his shoulders as Max used his ribs as a seat while he lay on the couch. 

But the days at work where sometimes a whole hour could go by with only one sale? 

Hell. On. Earth

Slumping against the bench behind him, Steve tipped his head back and sighed. "If nothing happens in the next hour, I'm going to kill myself."

Robin opened the wooden divider behind his head and leaned forward on her elbows. "If nothing happens in the next hour, I'll help."

Which is why at fifty-seven minutes to an hour later, when he heard the oh so familiar voice of Dustin, Steve burst through the back door excited. 

Dustin was back early.

Then the next 72 hours happened. 

read the rest here

[bucksaiga]

Billy couldn't be discharged from the hospital unless he had somewhere to stay and someone to care for him.

He could hardly move on his own, needed medication and was haunted by nightmares. Simply put, he couldn't do this on his own even if tried.

The Byers moved to California, he learned, wishing he could have gone with them.

Joyce said he was more than welcome to join them when he didn't require as much medical care. Traveling in his condition was dangerous anyway.

Steve's parents ranted and raved about how incompetent Steve was and he wasn't capable of being a full-time nurse for anyone when he could hardly take care of himself. Steve just believed it was an excuse for them to say no. While Billy was in the hospital recovering, Steve was constantly by his side. The rumors spread, and everyone knew there was something between them, but Steve didn't care. He loved Billy and promised he'd check on him everyday, no matter where he was.

Mike offered up his basement, and Billy told him he would rather get flayed again than stay in his house. He'd never explain why, though.

The obvious option would be for Billy to go home, but Neil didn't want to be bothered. He called Billy a "burden" and told him to check himself into an adult care home. As much as Max hated it, she had no say in the matter.

That left Mrs. Henderson, who, upon learning Billy had nowhere else to go, offered him the spare bedroom in their house. She was recently laid off, and took a job from home stuffing envelopes.

Billy received a generous amount of hush money from the government, and was willing to pay for the room.

The first night was a little awkward. Billy had never spoken to Mrs. Henderson before, and he hadn't spoken to Dustin very much, aside from some small talk when he visited him at the hospital.

He was in too much pain to sit upright at the dinner table, so Claudia propped him up on his bed and convinced dustin to join her in keeping Billy company.

They ate together and watched Shadowlands, which Dustin and Billy found dreadfully boring.

As Claudia had her back to them, Dustin turned to Billy, mouthing about how boring the movie was.

They tried to hide their laughter, pretending to enjoy the movie when Claudia turned back to look at them.

"Wanna see something cool?" Dustin whispered.

Billy nodded. He doubted anything Dustin would show him would be cool, but he was wrong.

Dustin was working on some figurines for D&D and Billy thought they looked pretty badass.

Claudia turned to them again, smiling. "So I was watching the movie all by myself, hm?" "Sorry, mom. I thought Billy would want to see some of the stuff I was working on and—"

"It's alright, Dusty. You boys have fun playing with your toys, I'll clean the dishes."

"They're not toys mom, they're..." Dustin sighed. "She doesn't get it."

"At least she's here."

Dustin nodded. "Yeah, she's a great mom! Hey, d'you like comic books?"

"Max used to leave them lying around and I'd look at them. They're okay, I guess."

"Wait here—I mean...sorry. I forgot you...couldn't move." Dustin winced.

Billy sighed, brushing off Dustin's awkward comment. "Bring me a drink while you're up."

"You got it!"

Billy watched Dustin run out of the room, then glanced down at Dustin's figurines.

"Steve will get a kick out of knowing his best friend likes me."

[crayonboxcolors607]

in honor of Part 1 getting 100 likes and like 15 reblogs! (a lot for tiny stupid me lol) i decided to suck it up and write another part bc ppl have asked for it

IF YOU HAVEN'T READ PART ONE, PLEASE DO SO!

After Robin found out, things were a bit better for Steve. The two of them practiced their signs during slow shifts at the Family Video. Robin showed him a new sign every day and helped him improve his lip reading. It benefited his daily life too. Gone were the days when he had to walk all the way across the store to talk to Robin, now the two of them could have conversations from opposite sides of the store, their hands flying fast as they spoke.

Robin was a fucking godsend, bullying Keith into giving Steve more time off in case of migraines and providing excuses when he couldn't drive the kids around. She begged Steve to wear his hearing aids, eventually telling him that if he played his cards right he could cover them up with his hair, which ultimately convinced him. She'd helped him find a new hairstyle that almost eliminated them completely, clapping her hands excitedly as the shock on his face was evident when he turned them on and could differentiate sounds again.

Of course, there were still things that were hard, even with the hearing aids. Steve needed to be directly facing someone in order to have a basic understanding of what they were saying, and there couldn't be anything obstructing their mouth. This proved especially difficult when Steve interacted with the younger Party members, although they continued to chalk it up to Steve's usual airheadedness. For once, he was grateful to be stereotyped as a dumb jock.

One random day in October, however, things began to change.

Dustin had somehow roped Steve into driving him, Mike, and Lucas to some fancy-ass comic store in Indianapolis, claiming that "the one in Hawkins is not nearly comprehensive enough, Steve". He'd rolled his eyes and responded with what they referred to as his "Mom Pose", his hands on his hips and his eyebrow cocked as he stared at them judgementally. Eventually, though, he'd relented, letting them fight over who got shotgun and who had to sit in the back.

Somehow, although he himself didn't quite seem to know how, Lucas managed to snag the front seat. He'd slid in quietly as Dustin and Mike threw themselves into the backseat, yelling obnoxiously about unfairness and favoritism. Steve refrained from pointing out that he'd had no part in the tussle for shotgun, instead allowing it to play out.

He and Lucas had been engaging in conversation about sports when Lucas had quietly mentioned that he was thinking of trying out for the school's basketball team, tentatively asking Steve if they could meet up the next weekend so he could give him some pointers. Steve had agreed without even thinking, but he began to panic once he got home later that afternoon. How was he supposed to go over skills in basketball when he couldn't even hear out of his left ear?

But in typical Steve fashion, he procrastinated until the last minute, eventually deciding that he simply wouldn't wear the hearing aids. He'd be fine for one basketball practice, right?

And so, Steve drove to the basketball courts that Saturday, removing his hearing aids as he arrived, and thus reintroducing a fuzzy ringing in his ears that he hadn't experienced in a long time. It felt alien, but he shook his head around a bit and started to shoot baskets. He'd forgotten how good sports made him feel, and was pleasantly surprised at the adrenaline that began pumping through his veins. In fact, his new lack of hearing made it easier for him to practice, as it allowed him to tune out the rest of the world and focus solely on himself and his own fluid motions.

This did prove to be a slight problem, however, as he didn't hear Lucas dropping his stuff on the bench, nor did he notice him walking up to Steve. So the tapping on his shoulder startled him far more than it should have.

"Jesus Sinclair!" Steve exclaimed. "You scared the shit outta me, man!" Lucas seemed confused at Steve's reaction, and he silently reminded himself that none of the kids knew about his hearing.

"Uhh, sorry Steve," Lucas said slowly. "Are um, are you okay?" The concern on his face melted Steve's heart just a little bit.

"I'm fine buddy," he reassured the young teen. "Was just in my own world a bit, you know, focusing and stuff." His explanation seemed to comfort Lucas enough, and he grinned.

"You ready to get started?" he asked, tossing the younger boy the ball. Lucas caught it with a practiced ease and began dribbling, feinting left and right. Steve dropped down into his defensive position, mirroring Lucas's every movement, tracking his feet to predict which direction he would go next.

He felt himself slipping back into that headspace that he loved so much, the one that drew him into sports in the first place. Because he didn’t need to think about it, the strategies were always in his brain. He just needed to rely on muscle memory, all his former skills coming back to him as he and Lucas scrimmaged.

They played for about thirty minutes before taking a quick break to grab water and snacks, both of them struggling to catch their breath. Lucas opened his Gatorade™ and said something Steve, causing him to look over in surprise as he struggled to figure out what the younger boy was saying.

"Pardon?" he said, pretending he just hadn't been paying attention. Lucas repeated himself, or at least Steve had to assume that he did, because again, he couldn't understand a single word that left the younger boy's mouth.

There was a heavy feeling in his stomach as he debated asking Lucas to repeat himself a third time.

Someone tapped his leg, pulling him out of his own spiraling headspace. Steve looked up, feeling even worse as he registered the fear on Lucas' face.

"Steve," Lucas began slowly, seeming struggling with what to say next. "Can you, uh, can you not hear me?"

Of course, that sentence Steve was able to comprehend.

With a heavy sigh, he shook his head.

"Not really," he replied, looking anywhere but at Lucas. "My hearing started to go after Billy smashed my head with a plate. And it got worse after Starcourt." He looked up then, a grim smile on his face. "Turns out multiple concussions aren't exactly good for a person."

Lucas' eyes widened at the confession. "So, are you deaf?" he asked. Or at least, Steve assumed that's what he said.

"Partially," Steve replied. "I can't hear at all out of my left ear, that's where I got the most damage. My right ear can function, but not normally. I mostly rely on reading lips and context clues."

"Oh my god," Lucas said slowly, the gears visibly turning in his head. "Oh my god! W-we kept teasing you! We kept calling you stupid a-and laughing at you! You couldn't even hear us! And you-" The boy suddenly slumped over and placed his head in his hands. He said something, Steve was sure of it, but it was additionally muffled by him covering his face.

"Uh, Lucas, buddy," Steve said hesitantly. "I can't understand you if I can't see your face." Lucas looked up at him then, tears pooling in his eyes.

"It's my fault," he said. Steve felt his mouth drop open in shock, and began to protest, but Lucas stopped him.

"Billy was coming after me," he insisted, talking clearer so Steve could understand. "He was attacking me! You stepped in and tried to defend me -- now you're deaf and it's all my fault!"

Steve felt his heart drop.

He'd been so scared to tell anyone because he was worried they wouldn't view him the same way as before, that he hadn't even considered how the kids might feel if they knew he was like this because of his attempts to protect them.

"Oh Lucas," Steve said softly, gathering the crying teen into his arms. "It's not your fault. There isn't a world where I wouldn't have done the same. You're my kid. I'm always gonna protect you. That's just how it works." He felt Lucas try to push away, to protest, but he just held him tighter. "You and your little gaggle of idiots are worth everything. I'd go deaf a thousand times if it meant keeping you all safe."

With a sniffle, Lucas detached himself from the older boy.

"Really?" he said, eyes shiny with tears.

"Of course," Steve responded, without missing a beat. He gave the younger boy a final squeeze, before wiping away the few tears that had escaped while he and Lucas were talking. "I'd better get you home anyway. Your mom will have my head on a stick if you miss dinner." He kept his hand on Lucas' back as he wiped his tears and sniffed a final time.

"Okay," he said. "But you're staying for dinner."

HOLY SHIT I FINALLY FINISHED! ONLY TOOK ME 9 MONTHS LOL

okay okay so i did talk about the older members of the party finding out next as well as dustin but i just had to make a liar out of myself bc when i started writing this my brain was just like "but what if we did a wholesome reveal with Lucas instead??" and now here we are and i regret nothing

except the lack of sleep. i regret that a lot.

also, i am not an athlete. i am a depressed and introverted high school theater kid who has never played basketball in my entire life bc i am a measly 5ft 1in (roughly 155cm). so dont come at me if the sportsball lingo is incorrect bc i have no fucking clue what im doing.

also THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING AND ALL THE LIKES AND REBLOGS ON MY LAST POST!!

[fag4dykestobin]

i kind of sat down and thought about steve and robin cooking together, and then i entered a fugue state and came out of it with a little over 1.7k words written about them being domestic besties (domesties?). so um. enjoy :)

-

Robin has destroyed one of her mom’s pans again, so she’s been banished to Steve’s house.

Well, okay, let’s back up.

Robin, waking up and feeling especially productive, had taken it upon herself to make some scrambled eggs. Nice and simple, right? So she had grabbed the first spatula and pan she could find, and… scrambled those eggs! She even remembered the salt and pepper! Unfortunately, as Robin had remembered after she oh-so-lovingly scraped off the nonstick coating, metal utensils and nonstick pans didn’t really get along. Oops. Panicking, she had scraped her mess into the trash and called Steve to pick her up. So, really, she had banished herself, preemptively.

“How the hell did you even do this much damage?” Steve asks, holding up the pan. The look of befuddlement on his face is picture perfect; you could teach children how to identify emotions with that face. Robin would pinch his cheek if she wasn’t so embarrassed.

“I don’t know! I just tried to make some eggs!”

“Rob, there’s like, a solid cube of—”

“A cube is a 3D object, dingus.”

“This is a 3D object!”

“Not in that way! It’s not a cube! You mean a square!”

Steve throws up his hands, one of them brandishing the pan and waving it around. “Fine! There’s a solid square…” Steve gives Robin a look. She nods her head at him in acquiescence. “... Of coating rubbed off of this thing. Why were you punishing your eggs like that?”

Robin leans back on the counter she’s been sitting on, legs swinging. Her heel hits the cabinet once, and Steve’s eye twitches, but he says nothing. Because he loves her. But she tries to avoid doing it again, for his sake. “I had to get that yolk distributed! I was working fast, Evie, the burner was on and I wanted it evenly mixed—!”

“So why didn’t you mix it in a bowl before that?!” Steve looks so stressed. It's kind of funny, given how unimportant the subject matter is. Robin suppresses a grin.

“I forgot! I was groggy!”

Steve groans, setting the ruined pan down and rubbing a hand over his face. “... When we move in together,” he says, pointing an accusatory finger at Robin, “I am keeping my metal utensils in a locked safe.”

The warm, fuzzy feeling that always appears when Robin is reminded of their future together, their permanence in each other’s lives, it fizzes and pops in her chest like a sparkler. It’s still such a comforting feeling, even after all these months.

It doesn’t stop her from antagonizing him a little. “Like I don’t know what combination you’ll set it to,” she scoffs.  “I could just break in. To spite you.”

Steve sits with that for a moment. “You’re breaking my heart, Robbie, you know that? You break my heart.” Not a real comeback. She’s won their battle of the bits, this time around.

“Well, anyway,” Steve continues, “I am really hoping you didn’t eat those eggs after seasoning them with metal filings.”

“It wasn’t— I don’t think the coating is metal. I don’t know what it is, actually, but I don’t think it falls under metal filings.”

Steve hmms. “Well, it’s not, like, plastic, right? Or silicone? That would just melt.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Well, it can’t be metal, because it loses a fight with metal spatulas.”

Steve thinks for a second. “Is… God, I mean, I guess there are other, other uh… what’s the word? For, like, not from plants?” Robin scrunches her brow in thought. “Synthetic? Inorganic?”

Steve snaps his fingers. “Yeah, both of those work. There’s probably things that aren’t plastic or metal that can be used to cook with, but it feels weird. That there’s another category out there.”

Robin nods in agreement, and they sit in companionable silence for a moment, contemplating on the nature of cookware.

“Anyway, no, I still haven’t eaten.”

Steve curses, gets up from leaning on his kitchen island, and steps over to the cabinets where he keeps his pots and pans. “Yes, God, okay, let me feed you. Still want eggs?”

“You know it!” Robin says, and Steve gets to cooking, bustling around the kitchen with practiced motions. It’s nice to watch him cook. He gets very focused, in a way that doesn’t usually come naturally to him. Steve doesn’t usually like talking while he’s cooking, but he hums bits of songs, bobs his head to the beat.

In no time at all he has a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of Robin, and she hops off the counter to sit at a stool at the kitchen island. She grabs the plate from Steve and smacks a wet kiss on his cheek, making him roll his eyes with a smile and subtly wipe her spit off.

Steve takes a seat across from her, and she notices that he doesn’t have anything. Did he already eat? “Did you already eat?” Robin asks.

Steve blinks. “Oh. No, I forgot.” He has a tendency to do that; when he cooks for someone, he can get so caught up in it that he forgets to make some for himself, and is left to scramble afterwards. “I’ll make myself some eggs after you’re done.”

An idea comes to mind. An attempt at redemption, maybe. “Let me?” Robin asks.

“And let you ruin my pans? No thanks.”

A flash of genuine hurt passes through Robin, and she lets it show on her face in the form of a pout. The comment isn’t unfounded, but… “No, please! I know what I did wrong, I’ll do better this time. I’m not sleepy anymore, either.” She just wants to take care of Steve like he takes care of her. She wants to feed him eggs, goddamnit! When was the last time anyone fed him eggs? Actually, if she thinks about that one, she’ll get sad, so she stops thinking about it.

Steve can obviously see her earnestness, and he softens. And rolls his eyes. But that’s just him being Steve, so Robin loves it. “Whatever you want, Birdie. Just don’t burn them. Oh, and use garlic powder.”

So Robin practically inhales the rest of her eggs and toast (very tasty, as always) and gets to work. Steve sits at his stool at the island, trying and failing not to watch Robin like a hawk as she bumbles around his kitchen (“That’s not enough garlic powder, Rob, put some more in there, it won’t bite!”  and “Use the small pan on the top shelf— no, the other small pan. No, the other—”), but she does eventually get a plate of eggs and toast in front of him. Not as good looking as the one Steve presented her, but it smelled good, and didn’t have weird inorganic pan flecks in them. Steve gives her a sloppy kiss on her cheek this time, over-exaggerating and putting way too much saliva in it, seriously, was he a dog or something? Robin BLECH’d and rubbed at her cheek, but he looked happy at his plate of food, so. Overall success, even if sacrifices had to be made.

Robin leaned on the island on her elbows, face a foot away from Steve’s as he picked up a forkful of egg. He side-eyed her.

“Do you… want some…?”

Robin waved a hand at him. “No, dingus. Eat it! Do you like it?”

“Okay, okay!” Steve rolled his eyes and ate his forkful. Robin stared at him as he chewed, looking out for emotions such as delight and wonder, but also disgust and revulsion.

She found nothing. Steve looked normal. He ate another forkful, eyeing her.

“So?” Robin prods.

“They’re eggs?” Steve says, mouth still half full.

“Swallow!” Steve rolls his eyes and does as she asks. “Nothing else? They’re just eggs?”

Steve nods, shrugging a little. Robin feels a little let-down. The first time Steve had made her eggs, it was life-changing. He put heavy cream in them. Robin doesn’t think her parents had ever bought heavy cream in their lives.

Robin guesses that it makes sense, though. This is just how he makes eggs, duh. Still, it makes her feel kind of bad, that she couldn’t give Steve the same feeling he gave her.

Steve seems to sense her inner turmoil. “They’re— it’s good, though! You did a good job. I do like it.” He seems kind of… embarrassed, but grateful. “You didn’t have to make them for me. Thanks.”

Robin bumps his shoulder with her own, and then retreats to her seat, allowing him a bit more personal space. But not too much! She kicks at his shins, and he kicks back, a smile on his face.

Cleanup is easy as Steve washes the dishes and Robin dries. It’s the small, domestic things, like this, that make her so excited to eventually live together. It’s so easy and companionable, full of chatter about band practice and Dustin’s latest science experiment. She can’t wait to graduate.

After the dishes, though, they’re both at the kitchen island again, silently staring at the pan Robin had ruined at her house earlier.

“... It seems like a waste to throw away,” Robin complains.

“I know, right? But it’s, like, useless now.”

Robin hums. “I mean, no, it’s still like… metal. I feel like we should be melting it down.”

Steve stares at her. “In what world would it be more useful melted down?”

Robin squawks, indignant at her idea being challenged. “You know what I mean!”

“No I don’t! Do you just want a, a… what’s the word? A bar of metal.”

“Ingot.”

“Do you just want an ingot hanging out on our mantelpiece?!”

“Well, I didn’t before, but now I do!”

They look at each other for only a moment before dissolving into simultaneous giggles, shared joy crackling and leaping between them.

Steve settles down first. Still grinning, he turns to put the pan at the very top of a relatively bare cupboard. “Fine, we’ll just… keep this to be melted down later.”

Robin can’t do anything to stop the twin grin on her face, not that she would ever want to. “I love you, Evie.” The words come easy, and the delight and surprise on Steve’s face is as wonderful as always. He pulls her into a hug.

“I love you too, Rob.”

[memes-saved-me]

El slamming her door in Billy's face with her mind while they're arguing and Hopper is just sitting in his chair like:

[sabbathbloodysabbeth]

Do you know how obsessed I am with scenes that are slightly changed to include Eddie? Like right now I can't help myself but write a one shot where he runs into Steve after Starcourt or something. Its been written so many times but god do I need to take my own spin at it.

[bylrlve]

Here’s the second Starcourt Study Hall Theoretically… Byler episode, as promised. This episode, which analyses s3 and 4, clocks in at 1 hour 50 minutes. Combined with the 1hr 10 minute episode 1, this adds up to a full three hours spent on byler!!! 💙💛

Shout outs to those whose posts I sent to Marina: @emblazons , @queerxqueen , @kidovna , @givehimthemedicine , @chirpsythismorning @gayofthefae @snacksizedgates @tryingonametaphor @doriandrifting @starbylers @conflictofthemind @aemiron-main @byler-alarmist @mikesbasementbeets @sennqu and @theninaproject

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[angry-edgy-emo]

[fantasticgothicpeachsludge]

Not being able to find fics that you only remember a scene from and none of the tags is torture