gravegroves

[gravegroves]

My humble contribution for the Harringrove Relay Race (@harringrove-relay-race); a (wait for it ...) Harringrove relay race! XD

Thank you @akichania for introducing me (and posting your fantastic circus piece!). Next up, I'm happily passing the baton to the wonderful and talented @spaceofentropy, who will give us an adventure featuring …. a kidnapping, of sorts. Arrr!

#this is now canon #okay but seriously ihni #you need to do a whole book with all your drawings #ihni's quality content! #harringrove

[gravegroves]

#laugh rule

[gravegroves]

Okay but can I just say that a reblog with no tags has no value to me whatsoever beyond a vague 'thanks for reblogging, bro'.

But when there's tags.

Tags freaking out over the art I post or speaking directly to me as an artist. Oh my fucking god, I cannot describe the dopamine hit I get when I read them. And I do. I regularly go back into the tags left on my posts and just bask in them. I don't think people understand how nurturing they are and how fucking meaningless it feels when they're NOT there.

There are people on this site I've never spoken to, but I remember their username PURELY because they left kind words on my work.

And I get it, having to extensively tag everything you reblog is fucking exhausting and it doesn't have to be every time or even more than a single kind word, but maybe think about it next time you reblog something someone obviously took a lot of time to do.

when i say i wish people started using the reblog button more i don't mean it in a 'i want more notes' kind of way i mean it in a 'i want to read about your thoughts on this particular thing' and 'i want to have conversations in the tags' and 'i want this to feel like a community again and not like any of those boring social media platforms where artists are content creators and interactions never goes beyond a like'

#i think about this constantly #the tags are my life

[gravegroves]

Billy Hargrove has been dead for little over two months when Steve opens the door to find him on the doorstep, dirty and pale and shaking. He stares at Steve with wide eyes – bluer than Steve remembers – before he collapses into a heap of dirty limbs halfway across the threshold. Steve pulls him inside, disposes of him in the couch in the living room, and naturally proceeds to freak the fuck out.

After some processing, he decides that he must be experiencing a very vivid dream – and honestly, it’s a welcome change after the usual nightmares – and since it’s merely a dream, he opens a bottle of his dad’s best whiskey, because where’s the harm, right?

An hour later finds Steve sitting on the floor with his back to an armchair, predictably drunk and watching Billy sleep. Or possibly being unconscious. It doesn’t really matter which, since it’s only a dream.

Turns out, though, that it’s not a dream – or if it is, it’s a damn weird one. Because Billy wakes up, and when he looks around the room and spots Steve there, he starts to cry, which. Is not something that Steve’s brain could ever dream up, alcohol-soaked or not. And Billy feels solid enough under Steve’s hand, when he awkwardly pats the other boy’s shaking shoulders.

The events that have taken place are eventually revealed, but make no sense to either of them. Apparently Billy woke up somewhere dark and cramped (the coffin, he doesn’t say, but Steve hears it anyway), promptly panicked, and … broke out, somehow. Dug himself out from the rain-soaked earth, and stumbled along the roads until he saw a house he recognized. Which was Steve’s house.

It’s impossible, Steve knows. Billy has been dead for months. Steve saw him die – had first row seats to the sight of him getting impaled by a monster made out of meat and bones – and coming back from the dead after all that is simply not possible. Yet here Billy is, sitting on the floor of Steve’s living room, not a mark on him.

(Literally. There are no marks, no scars. Just smooth skin where they both know he was speared through.)

They spend the rest of the night slowly making their way through Steve’s dad’s expensive whiskey.

In the morning, Billy says, voice hoarse; “I need you to drive me to California.”

Steve thinks of asking why. Thinks of Max, thinks of Billy’s parents, thinks of telling the Party or the police or at least some adult who would possibly know what to do. What he says, though, is “Okay.” The world swims, and he adds, belatedly, “Tomorrow, though. I’m too drunk to drive now.”

A snort is the last thing he hears before he falls asleep where he’s sitting.

~~~

Half the next day is spent nursing hangovers and realizing that nope, last night wasn’t a dream or an alcohol-induced hallucination. The other half is spent making preparations for the trip.

Now when Steve is sober, he revisits the idea to simply tell someone. Billy being back is a miracle, and there are people mourning him, people who has missed him –

Billy shuts that down hard and fast. “No one is mourning me here,” he says, voice gravel-rough. “If they act like they do, it’s because they’re feeling guilty. There’s nothing left for me here.” He licks his lips, and his next words are a whisper. “I never wanted to come here in the first place.”

And, like. If he really thinks about it, Steve realizes that they wouldn’t be able to keep Billy being back a secret if he stayed in Hawkins. And if they tell Max, or Billy’s family, then word would spread. The government would no doubt hear of it. There would be a high probability of Billy being taken in for tests, experimentation, whatever else.

He doesn’t deserve that, Steve thinks as he watches Billy emerge from the shower wearing borrowed clothes. Because Billy died saving them. Sacrificed himself for them, even when they’d done so little to try to save him. This? Driving Billy to California? It’s the least Steve can do for him.

~~~

They get on the road the next day. Steve has taken time off work blaming the death of an elderly aunt and a rare family gathering, and been as vague as he can get away with concerning how long he’ll be away. Early in the morning, they put their bags – Billy’s is a borrowed one, containing only Steve’s things since he has nothing of his own and understandably didn’t want to keep the clothes he had on when he was buried – in the trunk of the car, and get in.

Steve is driving. When they pass the “Leaving Hawkins” sign, Billy lets out an audible sigh and slumps down in his seat. Steve glances over at him, and Billy explains without being prompted; “I always hated this town. I can’t believe they fucking buried me here.”

His incredulousness over the fact draws a snort out of Steve.

~~~

It’s strange, how easy it is to get used to having Billy Hargrove next to him while in a confined space. Stranger yet, how well they get along considering their history. And even more strange, how different Billy seems now, when they’ve left Hawkins behind them.

Or perhaps it’s not strange at all – at least not in comparison to all the other weird stuff they’ve both seen and somehow lived through. In the great scheme of things, one young man coming back from the dead and wanting to go back home doesn’t even make the top ten list of weird shit.

Billy is surprisingly funny, and witty, and smart – and it is dazzling without the sharp edges. It takes Steve a while to recognize what is missing, and when he does, it makes him watch Billy with new eyes. Because Billy doesn’t seem to exist behind a layer of anger anymore. The tension is gone. The further they get from Hawkins, the easier Billy seems to breathe.

The change is remarkable. Makes Steve think that he probably never knew who Billy really was, before this.

He finds himself thinking that he is looking forward to getting to know the real Billy.

~~~

They take turns driving. Sometimes they talk, sometimes they sit in companionable silence, and sometimes whoever’s in the passenger seat naps while the other drives. They stop at gas stations to stock up on gas and snacks, and at diners for food. That first night, they drive straight through, but the next night they stop at a motel for some proper sleep in a bed.

They share a room, but lie in separate beds. They talk for hours in the dark before falling asleep.

“I never wanted to be buried underground,” Billy says, when they’re both on the edge of sleep. “They knew that.”

“What did you want, then?” Steve asks, never having considered an alternative.

“I wanted to get back to the ocean,” Billy says. “Have my ashes spread over the surface of the water and become one with the waves again.”

Steve doesn’t know what to say to that. That he’s sorry that even Billy’s own family didn’t respect his final wishes? That it sucks that they buried his body in the dirt of a town he hated, leaving him to rot there forever when he never even wanted to come there in the first place?

“’One with the waves’ … That sounds beautiful,” he decides on. And then, as an aside, “I’ve never even seen the ocean.”

Steve can hear the smile in Billy’s voice when he speaks next. “You’re going to love it. It’s … everything.”

~~~

They get closer – to California, and to each other – and the closer they get, the less urgency Steve feels to get to their destination. Because what will happen when they get there? Steve can’t just leave Billy there without a means to support himself. Without a home, without a car, without money – without someone to take care of him. Steve can’t help it – he worries.

And then he looks at Billy’s smiling face next to him, and feels his worries being washed away.

He still finds himself taking the scenic route more often than not. Insisting on taking detours to see the sights. Claiming he’s too tired to drive unless he takes a break.

Billy smiles as if he knows what Steve is doing, but he doesn’t make a comment. Doesn’t complain. Seems to enjoy this little bubble they’re in together, in Steve’s car with the world passing them by outside.

It’s strange. But it’s nice, too. Steve kind of doesn’t want it to end.

~~~

The last night, they stop at a motel an hour or two from their destination. They could have kept on driving, but none of them seemed to want to. So they get a room, as usual. Steve pays, as usual. There are two beds, as usual.

Yet, when it’s time to sleep, Billy forgoes his own bed and goes to stand by Steve’s. There’s a question in the air between them, unasked.

Steve answers by peeling back the comforter in invitation. His mouth is dry and his heart is beating like a drum in his chest as Billy climbs in next to him.

They don’t speak much, that night. But they kiss. And they hold each other.

“I never wanted to come to Hawkins,” Billy whispers between kisses. “And I hated it there. But I met you, so I guess it wasn’t all bad.”

The next morning, they wake up in each other’s arms.

~~~

“I’ll show you my home,” Billy says when they get back in the car after breakfast. Steve is back behind the wheel, because he wants a reason to keep his eyes on the road. If he watches Billy too much, he’ll do something stupid – like turn the car around and go back to Hawkins with Billy still in it, or perhaps decide not to go back to Hawkins at all, himself. Just, stay here with Billy, for a while longer.

It’s a fantasy that hurts, so he pushes it down. Concentrates on following Billy’s directions, and drive through a city bigger than one he’s ever been in.

(When he first spots the glittering blue between buildings, he gasps. So does Billy.)

They drive through the city, then out of it. Along a winding road with fewer and fewer buildings around, the ocean vast and terrifyingly endless to their right. Eventually Billy directs them down a gravel road that doesn’t have a sign and looks like it might lead onto private property. Steve would worry, would perhaps protest, if it wasn’t for the longing on Billy’s face.

They have to walk the last bit, Billy says. They get out of the car. It’s hours before noon, but it’s already warm. Steve’s in just a T-shirt, and for a second he his face to the sun to feel the warmth of it on his skin – before turning to Billy only to see him turned to the sun, too. Like a flower in bloom.

He looks golden, in this light.

After a short walk down a steep incline, they end up on a little beach. A tiny one, empty, with rocky outcrops on either side which makes it seem like they’re the only people on earth. The sand is fine and pale under their feet, the water lapping at the edges of it and then stretching out in front of them until it meets the horizon, far far away.

It’s beautiful. But it’s not exactly a house. And didn’t Billy say he’d show Steve his home?

“Mom used to take me here when I was a kid,” Billy says, kicking off his shoes. Steve does the same, and pulls off his socks as well. “We used to come here all the time.” Billy holds out his hand with a smile, and Steve takes it. They make their way to the water. “She’d watch me play in the water for hours, sitting on a towel, just listening to the waves and the seagulls.” The first step into the water is a shock – it’s cold, but not freezing. It almost feels alive. Steve takes a tentative step after Billy, bolstered by Billy’s widening smile. “I think taking me here was the most peaceful she ever got to be. It was for me, at least. The best times of my childhood.”

They stand there in the surf, feet in the water and holding hands, when Billy turns to Steve. His eyes are shining with unshed tears and his smile is wobbly as he places his hands on either sides of Steve’s face and leans in for the softest of kisses; their lips just barely brushing against each other.

“Thank you,” he says, and Steve’s heart skips a beat because it sounds like goodbye, “for not letting me stay buried in Indiana.”

He backs up a step. Brushes a tear from Steve’s cheek – that he hadn’t realized had fallen – and turns towards the endless sea. Takes a deep breath and starts walking.

Steve wants to reach out to stop him, wills himself to to say something, but he can’t. Somehow, he knows that this is where they were heading from the start. This is why they had to go here.

As Steve watches, Billy … dissolves. Like in a movie. One moment he is solid, and the next he’s … not. He turns to dust in front of Steve’s eyes, fine dust that glitters like gold in a sudden ray of sunlight. It – he – is spread out over the water, is carried over the clear surface by the gentle breeze.

Instead of being trapped in the ground inland, he becomes one with the waves again.

#ihni i will fucking swim to sweden and drag you to jail for this #my fucking heart can't take this #what am i even supposed to do with myself now #god this was good #but like in a 'i'm probably not fine' kinda way #ihni is a treasure

[gravegroves]

I would just love to read a 50k fic about Steve meeting Billy again at 30 in California while on a business trip. Billy's gotten help, has learned to let go, is firmly set on a path of self love and surrounded by a tightknit group of found family that support and love him. Steve on the other hand has grown bitter, having just gone through a nasty break-up, having lost contact with most of the group because of his busy life and obligations and hating the life he let his parents pressure him into in a vulnerable moment of panic about his future.

Steve learning to chill and take every day as it comes and letting go of the need for a luxury lifestyle that hasn't yet managed to make him happy. Becoming his own person by not giving a shit about his parents' expectations and quitting his six figure salary job to 'find himself' (and get himself a boyfriend/Billy). Learning to get past the anxiety of reaching out to reconnect with people he hasn't spoken to in years, like Robin, like Dustin, like Nancy and Jonathan.

Steve guiding Billy through tough times is a Harringrove staple at this point, but I'd love to see one where Steve is the one that gets to heal and pull himself out of the hole his parents dug for him.

#queue #self reblog

[gravegroves]

Last sentence game

Tagged by @disdaidal and @lazybakerart (thank you both ❤️)

The cabin is miles from the closest town, tucked deep into the forest via a twisting dirt road and when Logan turns them onto it Billy thinks the other shoe is finally about to drop: he's gonna get murdered in some dark woods by a guy with mutton chops and knife hands. Fucking figures.

(Been fiddling with the Wolverine and Billy fic lately, so here we are.)

Tagging: anyone that wants to join! You're welcome to say I tagged you.

#game of tag #last sentence tag game #i have a lot of feelings about logan being the perfect guy to handle Billy and his everything

[gravegroves]

I have this quiet, but persistent headcanon that Billy refuses to be homophobic. Ever.

It's the one part of himself he won't compromise with.

He doesn't know where this stubbornness comes from, if his mom managed to install the tiniest bit of self worth in him, locked it up tight and threw away the key before she left for good or if he did that himself somehow.

But no one has managed. Not even Neil, with all his beatings and hateful bullshit. Billy never ever hates himself for being gay. He hates himself for plenty of other reasons, but never for that.

He doesn't advertise it, sure. He's not fucking stupid. But this silent defiance manifests in many different ways.

Like when he catches Heather and Zoe making out behind the supply shed after hours. Simply taps his nose at Heather's horrified expression and loudly diverts Adam's attention when the guy moves their way to put away the pool noodles.

Or when Tommy nudges him at lunch and repeats the same hushed rumour Billy has been overhearing all week "heard Buckley's a dyke" and Billy, smooth as butter goes "nah, saw her sucking face with a guy behind the diner, she likes them college age" and within another week the rumours are different, but much less fatal.

Or when Billy's in town trying to get cigarettes and he walks past a group of kids calling the Byers kid a fag and Billy doesn't hesitate to scare the living shit out of them, has them them legging it down the street before he moves on without a word, not in the mood to talk to Max's loser friend.

Or when Carl Fucking Tanner calls Billy a pansy for bailing on the party that Friday night and Billy quickly makes him regret it.

Billy isn't a good person.

But that's the one place he won't go.

Because once he leaves this shithole, once he's free from Neil and all the crap that comes with living under his roof, Billy needs one part of himself that he can live with, one part that he didn't betray no matter how bad shit got.

So when Steve asks Billy if he's into guys, Billy answers honestly, unapologetically. Because if this is the thing that's gonna make Steve hate him for real, then Steve was never worth it.

The kiss he gets instead is a surprise, but a good one.

#self reblog #i still believe this shit with all my heart #billy can be a piece of shit #but he's not THAT kind of shit

[gravegroves]

Fic posted: 2014

The best fics in the world are the wips I'm afraid to start reading because they might not get finished.

#so many masterpieces I've come accross are unfinished #the pain

[gravegroves]

I'm going anon to say this ((((please forgive my english, i am trying💃)))) i have noticed that your name is said here and there with people i talk to, especially when i originale asked about good people to follow for harringrove. Through them it has become clear to me that you have been reaching out to a lot of people when they are feeling sad or just popping in with a kind word. You actually did for one of my close friends before i knew them on tumblr and i know it meant a lot to them. I don't really know what my goal is writing to you, i think i had a galaxy brain meme moment and thought i should tell you the kindness you are doing isn't going unnoticed or unappreciated. I see you and you are doing a lot of good 💖

Oh wow, uh, I'm kinda speechless. Thank you so much. I cannot imagine myself ignoring someone in need of a kind word, so I do my best when I can, which still isn't as often as I'd like. Lately I haven't been around a lot, literally been going through the worst 3 years of my life if I'm honest, and my mental energy is fluctuating somewhere around rock bottom, but if I can keep those around me feeling a little better it makes my own shit look a little less bleak, if that makes sense?

Thank you again for writing this. I've been reading it again and again for the past three days and, yeah, just thank you.

#crying in the club right now #thank you kind anon #i don't even know what to do with myself about this #anon ask

[gravegroves]

Very different than my usual post, but this is a commission I got to draw dogboy billy hargrove from @spotteddogfan ໒・ﻌ・७

#dude #this is amazing #love the colouring #billy hargrove #other people's art

[gravegroves]

"steve kills neil" hell yeah, now we're talking

Lol, you wanna read it? Here ya go:

The newspaper article never mentions why Steve Harrington drove to Old Cherry Lane one early December morning and caved Neil Hargrove’s skull in with a nail studded bat. Though there are... rumours.

It doesn’t mention Neil's son -- well, it does, but it doesn't mention how the day before, Billy had limped and later crawled his way to Loch Nora, half frozen, barely conscious and almost unrecognisable to his boyfriend when he answered the scrambled knocking on the door.

(It doesn't mention how unsteady Billy was on his feet for weeks after, how the hearing in his right ear was almost completely gone and never really improved much in the years since or the seven -- seven -- broken ribs, the dislocated shoulder or the fractured collarbone.)

It doesn't mention how Steve had held Billy until he passed out from pain and exhaustion, barely able to breathe, but still able to make Steve swear not to take him to a hospital.

It doesn't mention Steve panicking for two hours. Listening to Billy's rasping breaths and not knowing what to do. Or Steve picking Billy up and, in a feat of pure desperation, carried him to his car. How he drove like a bat out of hell to a clinic two towns over and hoping to Christ that they'd be able to help.

It doesn't mention the one nurse who takes one look at Steve clutching Billy's limp hand and understands. Who calls her brother doing his residency at the local hospital and tells him to sneak out an IV bag and to come check out a patient. Or the other nurse who keeps the clinic open and stays with them all night, checking on Billy's concussion every few hours and squeezes Steve's shoulder whenever he looks seconds from breaking apart.

It doesn't mention Steve driving Billy home in the early hours of the morning -- taking him up to his room and laying him on the bed where Billy had laid many times before. How Steve had tried to touch Billy, to comfort him, but there isn't a patch of skin left unmarked or uninjured for him to run his fingers over. How he runs from the room to scream into his fist.

It doesn't mention Steve sprinting to his car, driving in silence -- so carefully. Wanting to get to his destination unfollowed and unbothered.

It doesn't mention Max answering the door, how she watches him standing on the porch with the nail bat clutched in his hand, or how she silently lets Steve move past her into the house and gently push her outside before he closes the door. Or how she walks down to sit on the curb beside their driveway. Refusing to cry.

---

It does mention the screams that startle a neighbour. 

It does mention Susan Hargrove being shoved and locked into Billy's room after the first swing incapacitates her husband.

It does mention that Neil Hargrove's head had resembled more of a pulpy soup by the time Steve hits hard enough to embed the nails into the floor and leaves it there, poking up from the mess like a tombstone.

It does mention Steve walking calmly out onto the lawn, covered in blood and bits of brain to tell Max to go to the Sinclair's and to stay there.

It does mention Steve going home to change before turning up at the bank, draining his account and as much from his parents' as he can manage before he and Billy disappear.

It does mention the last place they were rumoured to have been seen: five states away, sitting in a diner and holding hands across the table.

It does mention the fact that the boys have yet to be found, some four years later.

---

It doesn't mention the people they left behind.

It doesn't mention that Nancy Wheeler chooses to abandon her dreams of becoming a journalist. That publishers are only ever interested in her stories if she's willing to talk about Steve Harrington. Her ex boyfriend. The Killer King of Hawkins High.

It doesn't mention how Steve's parents sell the house and leave Hawkins for good. How his father loses his job and his mother her bankroll. How they get divorced and never speak again and it's like their little charade of a family had never existed at all.

It doesn't mention that Tommy and Carol never regain any significant social standing at Hawkins High or that they leave the town not long after graduation. They are the couple that hung out with a killer and his suspected accomplice, possible gay lover, and in Hawkins, that's all they'll ever be.

It doesn't mention how Jim Hopper spends sleepless nights talking himself out of tampering with evidence. How one day, in desperation, he asks El to find either of the boys, but only gets a shake of her head in response and a firm: "Better like this."

It doesn't mention how Susan Hargrove, soon to be Mayfield once again, moves herself and her daughter to a different house. How she tries to repair the relationship with her daughter as best as she can, but the damage is mostly done. 

It doesn't mention that Claudia Henderson cries herself to sleep for many nights after, thinking of all the times she let that boy near her precious Dusty.

It doesn't mention how Dustin still talks into his walkie talkie at night, tuned to a private frequency that never answers him back. How he buys a bottle of Farrah Fawcett hair spray and uses it religiously despite varied results. How sometimes, when the party meets up, he and Max will lock eyes and share a private moment of pain that neither of them can talk about out loud.

It doesn't mention the envelope Max receives two days before her graduation and three weeks before she moves out for good. It contains a photograph of two young men kissing in front of a huge ornate building, holding up their hands with matching rings.

It doesn't mention how Max smiles at the writing on the back, tucks it away for safekeeping and wonders if she can save enough to go to Europe before her first summer break at college. How Max already knows Dustin will join her.

---

It doesn't mention that Billy and Steve live happily ever after.

But they do.

#self reblog #queue

[gravegroves]

I feel like Neil Gaiman owes us all an apology dance.

#neil gaiman #victory has never been so bitter #the fuck #good omens #go2 #david tennant #and #michael sheen #i love you

[gravegroves]

Glaze is out!

Tired of having your artwork used for AI training but find watermarks dismaying and ineffective?

Well check this out! Software that makes your Art look messed up to training AIs and unusable in a data set but nearly unchanged to human eyes.

I just learned about this. It's in Beta. Please read all the information before using.

#hell yes #anti-ai theft

[gravegroves]

THIS IS FUCKING IMPORTANT!!!

For those of you unwilling to click the link and read Audrey's answers, she categorically answers most of them with "I don't know-" or, to the question about harassment, "I don't understand this question-" it's honestly baffling that this woman, who, by her own admission, (correctly) did not consider herself qualified for the position because she only has one year of volunteering experience with OTW and practically none in the areas in the most need of change, actually put her hand up for this. THIS PERSON IS UNFIT FOR THE POSITION without even concidering her political views.

Audrey R., who’s running for the OTW board, is apparently also currently running for office. As a Republican

so uhhhhhh keep that in mind when you’re voting

#ao3 #OTW

[gravegroves]

At this point our fandom is so divorced from canon we might as well call them Buddy and Stanley. You'll have to pry Buddy and Stanley out of my cold dead hands, though.

for one dollar i challenge the stranger things fandom to sit and watch the show and talk about the canonical characters that are in said show and not the lala goofypants version youve created in your heads

#ariesbilly #harringrove #i'll die for buddy and stanley

[gravegroves]

Love the idea of Steve messing up and the angst that would follow. Out of curiosity do you have any specific fic recs that include that? 👀👀👀👀👀 Asking for a friend 🙏🙏

This ask made me realise that I SUCK at saving stories for when I might need to find them again. I have vague memories of reading a few, very few, but I wasn't joking when I said that "Steve being the one to fuck up" stories are so rare. Billy's the one with the barbed personality, so he often gets to be the 'villain' in all respects.

So I guess this is a general call for anyone with recs! No misunderstanding/miscommunication fics! We're talking 'dude, you need therapy' levels of fucking up.

#anon asks

[gravegroves]

A Billy and Max cosplay team up!

#duuuuuuuude #this is the best ST cosplay i've ever seen #stranger siblings