basiatlu

[basiatlu]

Road to Hell

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

Other relevant tags: assumed MCD, grief & mourning, injury, anxiety, slow burn, Post Season 3, canon divergence

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Billy Hargrove’s funeral stayed on-brand with a blanket of tense energy and haggardness. Steve had watched the priest sweat under the sun while casting dirt onto the empty coffin. He kept himself tethered to the present with an arm hooked around Robin’s shoulders. The two of them had matched in similar black blazers by chance, but it still caused Jonathan Byers to stare from across the 6 ft hole in the ground. He tried to catch Steve’s eye with a curious look. He was left ignored.

The secret under Steve’s black button-down caused its chain to pull down steadily at his neck.

To the left of the Byers was the family in mourning. Max looked nearly the same as she had in the smoky remains of the mall—covered in scrapes and heaving wetly. Her mother’s fidgeting hand gripped at Max while a hanky was offered in the other. Max’s red hair had been plaited into a sleek tail down her back that whipped about in irritation every time an attempt to wipe her snot and tears was made.

The impulse to wear the necklace now felt like a stupid gamble. Steve didn’t understand why he chose to stow it against his breastbone instead of simply in his pocket. During the parting condolences would have been the time to offer it to Max. He had kept it safe from the destruction. From wherever Billy’s body had been taken. A push for fonder memories. That was something to say, right?

But instead: Neil Hargrove had pushed over the priest.

“This whole damn thing is a mistake!” Mr. Hargrove had slurred.

Steve didn’t bother to stay long after. The arguing between Max and her stepdad had escalated until someone braved to cut in. Steve and Robin trekked through the humid air of the cemetery to his car. He was extra mindful of the inconspicuous grave markers amongst the grass. One wrong step would stack more bad luck against him. He leaned over to mutter in Robin’s ear.

“Thanks for coming with me.”

“Yeah, well, we watched him die.” She bit her lip in a way that reminded Steve of Nancy when she would reorganize her flashcards. What to cover next? “Which—yeah, wow duh you were there, sorry—I just mean. I wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t?”

Steve didn’t argue that. He had his own questions over how the script had played out in the Starcourt atrium. Could they have stopped the Mind Flayer sooner? Stopped Hargrove sooner? What did he even mean by that? Stopped. He meant “saved,” right?

They were back in the Bimmer and Steve caught the eye of his reflection wincing back at him. The bruises were yellowing. The stitches would be getting removed tomorrow. He rubbed at his chest for the pendant—felt the easy rise and fall of his breathing beneath it. He started the car.

It wasn’t until a couple of weeks later that Steve started to feel an equilibrium holding together his day-to-day.

[basiatlu]

This'll go well.

[basiatlu]

I'm so sorry you're going through it :( sending positive vibes your way! here's a photo of my cats snuggling with not a care in the world

as for a prompt, maybe some fluffy drarry cuddles? 💖

(This is from weeks ago so I don’t want anyone to think I’m doing poorly — all is well 💖)

Cat pictures are always a mood booster — and they’re so cute!! Thank you, dearest this would brighten my day, any day. A drarry cuddle doodle in exchange:

[basiatlu]

Read the first chapter of "Better Bite Back" written by @robthegoodfellow

[basiatlu]

Want some rabid, drooling boys? Some eventual bitey vampire boys? Look no further—disclaimer: no vampire reveal until next chapter, but here we offer some feverish spiraling Steve in the meantime; metalsandwichy

Fic for the Mini Reverse Bang run by the @billybigbang, inspired by the @basiatlu prompt that melted my brain on sight 🫠 adored collaborating with her on this idea so so much 💛

Check out her gorgeous cover art in Chapter 1, with more art to follow. Here's a taste:

[basiatlu]

For the reverse mini bang event over @billybigbang -- thanks to @dragonflylady77 for picking my prompt and writing the fic along with it! [Read "pressing buttons" here] I'm so glad I got to draw our boys and the Party at the arcade.

Close ups below the cut ♡

[basiatlu]

[basiatlu]

modern au

[basiatlu]

theres truly no better feeling on here than when someone leaves a long paragraph in the tags pointing out details you intentionally included in your art. YES !! PLEASE POINT IT OUT OTHERWISE I WONT KNOW IF PEOPLE NOTICED!! YOURE SO COOL!!!!!

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[basiatlu]

What is your Bluesky?

Here you go!

https://bsky.app/profile/basiatlu.bsky.social

[basiatlu]

He's not having a fun time

[basiatlu]

An interesting sequence of events leads to interesting outcomes. For my @harringrovesummerbingo bingo card. The full is on my bluesky ♡

[basiatlu]

Road to Hell

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

Rating: M (for language/canon-typical violence)

Other relevant tags: assumed MCD, grief & mourning, injury, anxiety, slow burn, Post Season 3, canon divergence

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It wasn't until well after Steve's roundup of the kids that he felt his shoulders ease into a looser droop. Oh, for sure, the morning had been a rough one, but the rise of noise—Dustin and Lucas' bickering intermixed with sharp rebuttals from Mike all while Will watched with a fond grin—brought Steve back to a mood he could have simply described as "soothed" despite the racket.

Dustin was riding shotgun, but nearly backwards as he was half-kneeled into the Bimmer's leather seat to fire away counterarguments at Lucas. With about 10 minutes left of their drive, the boys reached what Steve barely followed were Spy Hunter strategies that could lead to the best mark on the scoreboard.

"No, listen man, you're not thinking of the big picture. You need to go as slow as possible to ensure you can merge into traffic to avoid enemy fire. Lie low—then hit 'em with the oil slick during their cooldown!"

"But then you're fighting the timer. It's obviously best to go faster, hit hard at the start. You're just saying that because you're too damn slow to dodge in time."

"Language," Steve said as a tired reminder.

Lucas had the nerve to roll his eyes but muttered a sorry anyway. Steve watched in the rearview mirror as Will cupped his mouth into a hand to further hide his quiet laugh. Eyes back on the road, Steve made a left turn onto Old Cherry Road as they usually do en route to The Palace. The chatter cut to a sudden halt and Steve glanced at Dustin who had settled to stare down the street with a sour look.

"What?" Steve asked, mind reaching. "You guys forget to invite Max?"

There was a bit of shuffling and a huffy sigh from behind. The silence answered him for a moment too long for comfort before Will's voice piped up.

"She can't come today."

There's a whispered "Dude!" followed by a smack and Lucas' following hissed "Ow! What?" Will continued from his corner as Mike and Lucas managed to grapple on the bulk of the bench.

"Her parents changed their mind this morning, and told her she could come next time."

Steve mulls on that. Max Mayfield's mom and stepdad had been rightfully protective of her since the recent chaos. He had watched on with Billy Hargrove's necklace clenched safely in his own fist streaked with grime as the little girl—they were all just kids—was wrapped in the tightest hug from the two shaking adults. As they drove past the Hargrove-Mayfield residence in silence, Steve remembered Mr. Hargrove's booming shout for his son carrying across the destroyed parking lot.

Yeah, Steve didn't blame them for keeping Max a little closer at home for a while longer.

They pulled up to the arcade. The unlit sign read The Palace in a sun-bleached display. Despite Summer meeting catastrophe at its midpoint, Steve could see the youth of Hawkins running amok inside. Figured that since the snazzy mall was in smoldering rubble and the pool was closed for repairs, there wasn't much else to go.

Steve barely got the car in park before the kids spilled out onto the hot tarmac. They complained loudly of the heat before running towards the promise of sweet, air-conditioned relief. Steve shook his head with a testy tilt to his jaw.

"You're welcome, shitheads!" he hollered after them. It's then he realized Will had yet to join them and turned back with a hand braced on the headrest. "Hey, you ok?"

Will gripped at both his knees and let out a slow sigh. He bobbed his head, once, twice, side to side in a vague way--a sarcastic look about him.

"Yeah, I mean—as much as we can be?" He looked out the window towards the arcade where Mike must have realized they were down one and was gesturing at the car in a rapid wave from the doorway, refusing to leave the cool mouth of the building. Steve waited Will out, not really knowing where this was going.

He turned back to Steve with a shy smile. "The funeral is this Thursday. Max will want you there." The rubber bands in Steve's shoulders pull taut once again. The comfort of the drive sucked away from him. "Mom and me—Jonathan, too—we're all going. We can pick you up on the way?"

Steve covered up his wince with a fisted cough. Tried to smile.

"Ah, no that's ok, man. But I'll see you there? For Max."

For her brother, was left unsaid.

"Yeah I think she'd really like that." He opened the car door. "Bye, Steve! Thanks for driving us."

It wasn't until the whole squad was tucked inside that Steve collapsed back into his seat. The energy he'd kept up the last hour drained from him. He scrubbed a hand through his hair as the silence of the car made way for the radio that had been crackling on an empty station in low cadence. Steve was sure he'd flipped the damn thing off earlier. Dustin must've kicked it on with his flailing.

Now left with his thoughts for company, Steve went to search for some music. Maybe the Top Hits channel from Muncie was still in range here. It was as his fingertips brushed the rigged surface of the dial that a sharp pop of static shocked up his hand.

"Ah, shit!"

The static seemed to intensify—or was that his ears ringing? And then a garbled voice pushed through the speakers.

"—skkkkkrrrvvvk—otta be kidding me?"

Steve stared down into the holes of the console speaker. Didn't think he had heard that quite right. Radio host was maybe caught with a hot mic. Happened, right? Weird. They almost sounded exactly like—

The buzz of the radio crested again with an angry wave. The gruff but so distinct voice of Billy Hargrove sounded.

"Get it together."

Steve scrambled to turn down the volume, change the station, select a preset, but like a skipping record the mockery of his dead classmate demanded over and over.

"Bzzrtrrt-together... Get it togetherrrrrvvvrrt—it together. Get it together."

A panicked groan ripped from his throat as Steve toggled the radio off. A layer of sweat was starting to collect at his brow. The salt of it stung his sores. He needed to go home. Needed to clutch at the nail bat with an eye on the Scoops Ahoy uniform in the gap beside his bed. No need to sit in a hot parking lot by himself. Had to get out of here. He could freak out in his shower again for a little while. That sounded so much better. But the kids would need to be picked up in three hours and the thought of zig-zagging across town made Steve pause. Jesus, what was wrong with him?

Steve checked over his face in the rearview. Right, yeah, get it together is fucking right, Harrington. Damn. He needed a nap.

Across the street was another lot—extra parking for the local church. It was nearly empty on a Wednesday afternoon and the far corner was blessedly shaded with reaching boughs from the trees lining the perimeter. Perfect.

Decided, Steve swung his car over to a choice spot for a little shut-eye. The drop of temperature was immediate. With a sigh he rolled down his window and killed the engine. The breeze was nice enough despite it being July—screw this entire month, man—and the jitters still hadn't left him. He reached over to the glovebox for a pack of slims and tapped out a cig.

It wasn't until he was a couple drags in that Steve felt able to give the radio a last chance. A quick search and he finally tuned in on a station just as the DJ announced the next track. That song from Alphaville that had played at every school dance for Steve's senior year. The singer's voice crooned and something in the wistful lyrics caused Steve's throat to seize.

He took another puff before humming along, singing whatever words he could follow in time.

"… Sooner or later they all will be gone—Why don't they stay young..?"

And as the beat played on, summer breeze a relief to the sweat on his skin, Steve could once again remember he was still alive.

[basiatlu]

wip ♡

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Billy Hargrove’s attempt to be slick and aloof crumbles faster than he’d care to admit.

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Draco helping Harry build better memories around camping.