Latest Posts by liverditty - Page 2

[ok final old art upload] I LIKE THIS ONE TOO !!!

billy

I do silent reblogs because i want to support ppl but don’t have a whole lot to say. I enjoy ur stuff, ur cool af but I suck at words and keyboard smashing looses any meaning if its under every post.

"You know," Billy Hargrove slurs into Steve's ear, breathe soaked in whiskey and cigarette smoke. "You've got really pretty... pretty eyes."

"Uhm." Steve glances up from his cup to Billy. Waits for a laugh, an insult and a joke, but there's nothing following. Billy's eyes are glassy, reminding Steve of huge blue oceans. He has to be wasted as fuck. Just an hour ago he called Steve King Loser.

"...Thank you?"

Billy smiles at him, a little goofy, way too happy considering he's talking to a guy he hates. He lifts his hand and Steve almost flinches, but he puts a finger on Steve's temple. Tender, almost careful.

"I like your face," he tells Steve.

"Okay, I think you had too much."

Steve tries to grab the bottle Billy is holding. Billy clutches the bottle against his chest, letting go of Steve's face. It's a bit disappointing. People are staring. Steve can hear them snickering. The air is stuffy. Stupid party crowd. He doesn't want people to see Billy like that. He must admit, he likes him like that.

"Let's go," he says to him. Holding out his hand like an idiot. Billy stares at it. Steve never noticed how long his lashes are.

Billy takes his hand, when Steve is about to drop it. Unsure, like he has never done it before.

"He's going to hate me for it," Steve announces. The crowd laughs, because that's how the script of the cruel play that is Highschool goes.

They walk outside. Or rather, Billy stumbles and Steve drags him.

"Are we goin' to yours?" Billy asks.

"Sure," Steve says. He thought he'd drive Billy home, but Billy sounds so hopeful.

Getting Billy into the car is a struggle, because he doesn't want to let go of Steve's hand. Yeah. This one had way too many.

"Is this a date?" Billy babbles.

Steve nearly drives over his neighbor's prized roses. Jesus. A date?

"I hope it is," Billy mumbles, already halfway asleep on the passenger's seat.

Steve parks the car. This wouldn't be the worst first date he had, he thinks.

Commission for @spotteddogfan

This AU of Billy belongs to Fuzz.

white coat dlc

The Duffers really fumbled the bag big time. They could have had passive aggressive still in recovery Billy being dragged around by the older teens against his will because he has a connection to Vecna and can sense him like Will.

Billy not wanting to leave the trailer but hearing/seeing what happened to Chrissy because he was smoking out his window so of course he tries to help them clear Eddie's name. Billy making snarky comments and getting humbled but pulling "I almost died for you shit heads" so they all shut up. Billy who goes to dive into the lake before they all stop him and he begrudgingly let's Steve jump in instead but not before they have a back and forth about who's the best swimmer. Billy who is closer with Max but is being targeted by Vecna for his guilt of all the MF victims so he isn't fully there yet.

Billy who acts like everything is fine and he's so over it all but he's actually guilt ridden, miserable and terrified. Billy who isn't healed physically or mentally but he's getting there. Billy who has to earn his trust and forgiveness for what he did and does it of his own free will. Billy who apologises to Steve while they're exploring the Creel House. Billy who apologises to Lucas while in the RV. Billy who has a moment with Max before he gets used as bait.

Give me Neil hunting him down in the Creel house instead of Billy chasing Max. Give me a horde of victims marching towards him in the parking lot of the Mall where he goes to try and process his grief and trauma. Give me Max putting music on because she knows exactly what song he would need to hear. You could even keep Kate Bush it still works.

Dacre would have ate this shit right up and shat out an Emmy.

Billy could have been the most impressive developed character in the show but no...nevermind

I present to you Cowboy Billy 🤠 🔥

I am sad and I will draw fuck-

WIP

Thinking about Steve being the first person since Billy’s mom left to buy him a birthday present

The first person ever make him breakfast in bed and to brush his hair out of his face

The first person since leaving California to tell Billy he loved him

The first person after Starcourt to look at Billy’s body and still see him as the most attractive guy in the state

The first person since social services gave up when Billy turned 13 to ask him if everything was alright at home

The first person since he was so very little to soothe him after a nightmare

The first person since Billy’s mom left to look at him and see a person

Not a faggot

Not a sex object

Not a puppet

A person

And a person who deserved to be loved

Yeah- thinking about that

I want billy meeting King Steve but not being impressed because he’s just another yuppie douchebag, he’s not a badass, he’s not hard. And he tells steve as much, which really posses steve off because it’s true but no one’s ever said it to him before. So now he’s making it his personal mission to show billy what an asshole he can be, that he’s not a bitch. Has a little incentive when billy tells him he’ll think about taking a seat on the throne if Steve proves himself worthy of being called king

And then it’s just billy making steve worse. Committing actual crimes, doing drugs harder than weed, shows him how to hotwire a car, start taunting the cops instead of sweet talking them or throwing Steve’s name around like he’s used to to get out of shit. Become an actual menace

And Nancy and his friends are getting concerned. All “we don’t recognize you anymore steve” and Steve could not give two shits. Not when he’s been having the time of his life, not when he’s still got the mental imagine of billy bouncing on his dick the night before. He’s good with his new persona. Loves it, really

Harringrove in a Cool World AU. Um… Billy Would and Steve Harris? 😁 Original idea by @stevesbqt

Original clip (warning for suggestive themes)

HD: 1 2

Steve shouldn't care about Billy Hargrove, should have long forgotten about him. Vecna and all the other monsters are long gone, three years of the baseball bat catching dust. He knows Billy somehow survived Starcourt, spent nearly a year in the hospital and then fucked off with hush money back to California.

Steve only sometimes hears from Max about him and he doesn't care. He just happens to have followed Robin to San Diego, because he had no idea what to do with his life. Much to his father's dismay, he's still making coffee and waiting tables, but much to his own surprise he's rather happy.

It's just one thing concerning Billy. One gigantic thing. A billboard, just across the café he's working at. Billy Hargrove, stretched out on some rocks by the ocean, glittering water drops caught in his lashes, running down his abs. His hair is wet, curls slicked back a little. Scars thin and mottled across his chest, pale against the tan on his skin. Biggest bedroom eyes ever.

An advertising for fucking aftershave, tormenting Steve every day - in the worst and best way.

Because Billy looks fucking hot. Because Steve wants to lick off the water and maybe also didn't need to put on some porn to jerk off, because his phone is a traitor too and now all the ads on there are showing him Billy fucking Hargrove. Steve wants to hate it, but his dick loves it.

Maybe Steve is so distracted by the billboard or the phone or the customer that changed his coffee order for the fifth time now, he doesn't see it coming. Only chokes on his own spit when he looks up and sees who stands right in front of him.

"King Steve! In California!" Billy says, a wide grin on his lips. He looks even better than on the billboard. He's got more freckles and his curls are up in a bun. He still hasn't learned to button his shirt and he's fucking ripped. "One iced coffee with-"

Steve doesn't get the rest. He totally isn't getting a boner at work. He isn't a teenager anymore, that shouldn't fucking happen.

"Harrington?" Billy raises one brow, absolute glee shining in his eyes.

Oh. Right. Steve needs to work.

"You're on the billboard outside," he tells Billy instead of pretending he knows what coffee Billy wanted.

Billy glances over his shoulder and then back at Steve.

"Yeah. Do you like it, pretty boy?" He licks his teeth. "Can I have my co-"

"I'm paying for it," Steve blurts out.

Billy's smile turns unbelievably smug. "So, you like it that much?"

Steve's face grows hot. "It's a good aftershave."

Billy snickers. "Buy me a slice of cake and I can show you more photos from that shoot."

It's a mistake, Steve thinks.

"Cheesecake?" he hears himself ask. His dick seems to have different plans. Maybe there is a slight chance that he gets to see the real deal.

Harringrove kissing so desperately. Like yeah they fuck, yeah they take each other apart but god, do they melt for kissing.

Making out in the back of the beemer until their lips are rosy red, knees knocking together, fingers clinging to collars. They get a little messy, breath coming out in tiny pants and their legs feel like jelly when their lips glance off of each other’s. Dragging each other into the dark during parties to the woodshed, lips finding each other’s in the dark, and they both moan like it’s the first time.

It doesn’t matter how long they’re together, they kiss like the world couldn’t rip them apart, like they’re trying to climb into each other. Maybe they are.

im so happy with how this billy tat design came out that i threw it on a t-shirt and shit, you can buy it here!

trying new brushes ^_^

tw: death, angst, alcoholism, sad. this is just sad im sorry

“I’m sorry, son,” Neil says, his voice softer and kinder than Billy’s ever heard.

He’s numb. He can’t actually believe it. Nothing feels real. Billy can’t be sure he’s actually sitting on the couch, can’t be sure Susan’s hiding in the kitchen, can’t be sure Max is locked away in her room. Can’t fathom that he’s 2,000 miles away from home.

“Her funeral is next Saturday. We can try to make it,” Neil continues, “But if we can’t, your aunt said she would send you some of her ashes.”

Billy’s frozen. The last time he ever saw her replaying in his mind.

Rosemary stood at the door, a suitcase packed by her feet and six year old Billy was curious why she hadn’t packed him one.

“I promise,” she ran her fingers through his hair, “I’ll come get you. I have to leave now but I’ll be back in two days and you can come live with me and Auntie Diane.”

He was sobbing, angry and seething.

“No, Momma,” he blubbered, “Don’t go!”

Rosemary heaved a big sigh. It was now or never. She had to time this right or Neil would catch her leaving.

“Baby,” she cooed, squeezing Billy close to her, “I’m coming back for you. Two days. You can wait for me.”

She kissed his cheeks, five to each one when Billy notices his mom is crying too. He clings onto her shirt so tightly, she has to forcefully pull his fingers away. She squeezes his little fists in her own, eyes trained on his wet, blue ones.

“Two days, baby.”

Rosemary opens the door, runs to Auntie Diane’s car and Billy runs out after her. He’s screaming for her to stop but she doesn’t. Auntie Diane drives away with Rosemary hanging out the window, “Two days!”

Neil finds him on the lawn not ten minutes later, crying hysterically. He picks up his son, carries him inside and sets him on the couch. Neil’s like a tornado afterwards, storming to the master bedroom and between his sobs, Billy can hear drawers slamming. Then Neil’s angry voice.

“That cunt!” he growls, “That worthless fucking whore.”

Billy curls up in a ball on the living room carpet, hiccuping while he stares at a bloody stain on the floor. He remembers how it was made, his mom flinging a plate at his dad. Remembers how it sliced Neil’s hand open when he tried to dodge it. Remembers how he tried to help his mom scrub it the next day, how it wouldn’t lighten and with time, turned into a deep reddish brown. Billy scratches at his arms as he cries, furniture crashing in the master bedroom.

Two days came and went, without Rosemary returning. Summer break. Neil took the week of work to watch Billy. He kept looking out the windows, his face twisted in anger. Billy called his Auntie Diane’s number ten times a day. No answer.

It’s a week later when he finally gets an answer. He’s hiding in the kitchen cabinet. Cries to his momma. Tells her he misses her. She says she’s coming to get him soon.

She never came back. Billy never knew why. Why she couldn’t take him.

“How?” his voice is shaky, unsure of itself. Sounds far away in his ears.

“She had cancer. Liver,” Neil’s voice is gruff again. He thinks about the bottles of vodka she used to hide around the house. Billy’s chest feels like it’s splitting open. He has to get out of this house, as soon as possible.

He stands, pushes passed Neil and for the first time in eleven years, Neil lets him leave without a single question. Billy finds himself at a liquor store, his fingers shake as he grabs the plastic bottle. His eyes scan over the the red accented label. The same label he used to find in the toilet tank when he was a kid.

The quarry is the best place to drink alone. He sits on the dirt in front of his car, cracks open the bottle of Popov and lifts it to the sky.

“To you, momma,” he chokes out.

Billy swallows back the fiery liquid, understands why she loved it so much while it burns down his throat and spreads a comfortable heat in his chest.

“I hated you,” he hopes she can hear him, hopes that somehow she can watch over him. He talked to her a lot, in his head, out loud when he was alone. Now he has a weird sense of comfort, like she’s here now. “For a long time. I never understood why you couldn’t just take me with you. I would’ve rather took care of you than deal with him.”

He chokes out a sob, furiously rubbing his fists against his eyeballs.

“God,” he laughs through the tears, a maniacal laugh, “You fucking bitch! What a fucking joke.”

Another swig of the cheapest vodka known to man. Billy wants to get so drunk, so shitfaced and wrap his Camaro around a tree. Wants to be reunited with his mom. Life’s a sick fucking joke. He’s freshly eighteen. His mom should be alive, should be around. It’s not fucking fair.

“Did you ever try?” he asks, “Did you ever want me? I remember that story you used to tell me, about when I was born. About how I opened my eyes and looked up at you and you said you finally felt whole.”

Billy sobs again, “Did you feel empty when you left? Did you hate yourself for not taking me?”

The clouds move slowly as he gazes up, tries not to think about how possibly he’s just talking to himself and she can’t actually hear him. That she’s just gone and there’s nothing and that’s it. You die and you’re dead and gone, just memories. Billy suddenly clutches at his necklace, brings it to his lips and kisses it.

“I love you,” he blubbers out, “Fuck, I love you.”

“Remember when you would take me surfing?” he hiccups, “Dad made me stop. Haven’t done it since the last time you took me.”

He’s silent for a while, hot tears streaming down his cheeks. It’s all so fucking surreal. He always wondered if it’d be easier if she was dead. But he’s never felt so god damn hopeless in his life.

He lifts the bottle of Popov again, laughing again.

“Got your favorite,” he sniffles, “I get it, a little bit. Why you ran off, why you drank so much. He would’ve killed you. I think I remind him of you. I think that’s why he fucking hates me so much. A reminder of what he lost.”

Billy sighs, takes another plentiful swig and sinks down on his back.

“Wonder why he doesn’t just kill me,” he mumbles, “Maybe he thinks he can just push me to do it my fucking self.”

He’s silent again, can hear the frogs and crickets. The air is cool, brings chills to his spine but that’s something Popov can solve. He tries to take another swig lying down but chokes on it, coughs up the harsh alcohol and sits up to catch his breath. Thinks about if he gets pulled over on the way home, how he’ll reek of vodka. Like his mom used to.

“I’ve thought about it, ya know. After you left, kinda thought it every day,” he rubs his nose with his palm, smearing snot over his skin. “It’s too easy. I don’t know. Maybe I’m fucking stupid, but maybe I can do something with my life. Don’t know what I’m good at, but there’s gotta be something, right? Maybe pottery, like you did. I never tried.”

Another swig of the cheap booze, he’s feeling it. Billy’s drunk. Gets why his mom was so dependent on it. A short term solution for life long pain.

“I think he loved you,” he speaks again, “Susan is a lot like you. She’s got a really fucking annoying kid and she’s not as perfect as you, but he seemed happier. He buys her things a lot.”

He laughs, “Get this. He bought her diamond earrings for Christmas. Got Max a stereo for his room. Guess what he got me? A fucking copy of Penthouse.”

Billy snorts then, “I’m gay, mom. I think he knows it too, that’s why he got me a fucking skin mag.”

When the realization hits that he’s just to come out to his dead mom, Billy breaks out into a fit of laughter. He’s giddy. He’s never told a soul, funny that the one he’s told isn’t on this plane of existence. He slaps his knee, body curling up with the laughs.

“I’m fucking gay!” he screams out into the empty quarry, falling into his back while his giggling subsides and shifts to violent sobs.

He hears the voice before he sees the dark figure standing in front of him.

“Are you okay?”

Steve fucking Harrington. His ill fitting jeans, polo and Member’s Only jacket. Billy’s eyes meet his and then he’s a barrel of laughs again. What are the odds that as he’s coming out to his deceased mom, the boy that’s made these feelings more of a reality comes walking up. God’s a funny son of a bitch if he exists.

It’s the alcohol that fuels Billy’s next move.

Another big, belly laugh, “Am I okay? My fucking mom’s dead!”

Steve’s face falls, “Oh… god, I’m so sorry.”

Billy smiles, cheekily up at the brunette. Remembers smashing a plate over his head. Like mother like son. Billy laughs again, unscrewing the red cap from the plastic bottle.

“Never felt closer to her,” Billy insists, raising the bottle before knocking back another gulp. “The hell are you doing out here, amigo?”

Steve sighs, “Come here to clear my head. You sure you’re okay?”

Billy shoves the bottle towards Steve, “Have some! For my sweet, beautiful mother. She was a fiend for this stuff.”

The brunette sits next to him, takes the bottle and knocks back a swig. His handsome face cringes with it. He hands it back and tilts his head as he looks at Billy.

“I’m really sorry. That sucks.”

Billy giggles, “Haven’t seen her since I was six! Her funeral is next Saturday. Wonder if I should skip it. She didn’t show up when she said she would.” He sighs, looks up at the sky, “Two days, right?”

Steve is silent, lets Billy get out whatever he needs to. Pats his knee reassuringly.

“I fucking miss her, man,” Billy admits, “I… fuck!”

He grabs onto his pack of smokes, pulls one out and lights it, his fingers trembling.

“Yeah… life’s… weird like that, it has to throw everything at you at once,” Steve sighs, “See if you got what it takes.”

“I don’t think I do,” Billy admits, shoving the box of Marlboros against Steve’s chest.

Steve frowns, accepts the cigarette and hands the box back to Billy, “You seem tough enough to handle it.”

Billy breaks down, sobbing uncontrollably and ducking his head between his knees. Steve doesn’t know what to do. This guy beat him blue and bloody a couple months ago. Now he’s crying so hard Steve thinks he might puke. His arms circle around Billy before he can really think about it, clutching onto him. The blonde doesn’t return the embrace, Steve awkwardly rests his cheek on Billy’s shoulder and rubs soothing circles against his back. But after a while, Billy drops his cigarette, turns his body and shoves his face in Steve’s neck while he wraps his arms around his middle. The sobs only seem to get harder the tighter they hug.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Steve mumbles because he doesn’t know what else to say.

Billy’s getting snot and spit all over Steve’s neck but it seems like the guy really needed a hug so Steve just holds him closer.

And if I lose your love, I know I would die

Desire

I long for things I cannot have and am incapable of feeling. An empty husk of a human desiring what comes to others with such ease.

It’s way too early for your bullshit, Hargrove.

When your werewolf boyfriend has way too much energy and you’re just tired™️

Happy stranger things day!

Fanfic authors will title fics things like "god made all men in his image (honey, i'm no man)" and it's 10k words of rick sanchez getting pounded in the ass

what’s the point of life? to suffer? everyday i wake up and remember billy hargrove is dead

Hello! 💛✨ I made a friendly Hargrove server for any Billy fans to join! You can dm/ask me for the link directly!

18+ only, drama/ship wars not allowed- etc etc.

billy drawing number 856

"Put your lips close to mine, as long as they don't touch. Out of focus, eye to eye, 'till gravity's too much."

🦋

Thank you all once again for trusting the process with me.

I am in love with this piece. A Red concept brought to life.

They feel, they know. Yet confessing makes it real. Something to act upon. But as long as they are silent they get to stretch the unspoken truth between them. Both an abyss and a bridge to cross through. A bright light they both choose not to look at, and neither the perfectly shaped shadow of their bodies standing so close they look like one. Light butterfly touches that need no justification. Sharing warmth, and gazes, secretive smiles under the wing of the autumn, where the decay and decadence of perishable life feels a lot too much like a foreshadowing of their untold story.

But they feel.

And they know.

Billy Hargrove Icon Commission for @applewillowstone

Comm's are open, dm me.

"I... emh... I'm glad you're alive. I mean, cool... it's cool, very cool... Super co-"

"Shut up, Harrington..."

Btw my commissions are open if anyone's interested lol

I draw almost anything, read my carrd though.

Liverditty-Commissions

Liverditty-Commissions

Liverditty Commission Information

Commission for @/AppleWillows over on Twitter

Commissions are currently open, shoot me a dm :p

It's the first pride Steve ever goes to. It's 1986, he's in San Francisco, far away from Hawkins and its horrors, walking along the street with Robin.

She grins and Steve can see it in her eyes, a new sense of belonging, a relief, a we're not alone, shining brighter than the sun. Behind them someone yells the theme: "Forward Together, No Turning Back".

He feels like there is a wound in his soul and now it's like the words pull the splinter out. He never wants to go back to Indiana again.

He turns around the corner, following the masses and he gets so distracted by all the shirtless guys, he nearly bumps into the one in front of him.

"Sorry," Steve says, his mouth hanging open when he comes face to face with Billy Hargrove. Who died at Starcourt a year ago.

Billy who blinks at him, blue eyes full of life and now- confusion. He's still rocks his mullet, only now he's wearing a pink scrunchie. He isn't wearing a shirt. There is a big scar just below his sternum, thin lines stretching from it towards his shoulders and abs like an exploding star. There is glitter on them, sparkling in colors of the rainbow.

Robin's elbow hits his side. Steve is staring, but he can't look away.

"Eyes up here, Harrington." Billy snaps his fingers in front of Steve's face. "What are you doing here?" he says accusatory like he isn't the one thought dead.

"Because I belong here," Steve snaps. It has taken so much time and nearly dying at the claws of Demodogs and the teeth of bats to break down the barriers of what he thought he had to do and what he wanted to. No fucking way he's going to let Billy say anything against that.

Billy stares at him, scars glittering in the sun.

"Same," he mumbles. Steve's pulse stutters for a few seconds.

Billy then grins boyishly at Steve, reminding him of the Billy who rubbed against him at practice and always stole his soap in the showers, the one he rarely got to see and never did against after the sad excuse for a fight at the Byers' house.

"Steve Harrington! As I live and breathe." Billy laughs and slings his arm around Steve's shoulder. "A fucking queer like me."

"Yeah," Robin interrupts. "How are you still breathing, Hargrove?"

Billy rubs his chest, one arm still around Steve. A bit of glitter stays on his fingers.

"No fucking idea," he says. "I just know I wanna get wasted tonight."

Robin opens her mouth to possibly ask a million questions, but Steve's mouth is faster. Even though he didn't plan on saying anything.

"Can I buy you a drink then?" he blurts out.

Billy nearly trips. Steve laughs into his ear. He made Billy Hargrove stumble. By asking him out. This is the best day of his life.

"Fucking unbelievable." Robin rolls her eyes.

There is a shade of pink on Billy's nose and it's not from the sun. "I promised Heather I'd at least make it to-"

"Heather?" Robin's face lightens. "Holloway? Is she alive, too?"

"You bet your ass, Buckley," a voice behind them says. "Let's ditch these idiots after the parade."

Heather winks at Billy, a similar pink scrunchie in her hair and popping a bubble gum with the same color.

"Bitch," Billy says without malice.

"But your best one." Heather blows him a kiss and grabs Robin's arm.

Billy grins at Steve. Steve grins back. He wants to kiss him on his thin blond mustache. Maybe he will, tonight.

Forward together, no turning back.