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#dandelion root rids
arson-jellyfish69 · 24 days
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Drew the main 4 with flowers that represent their best qualities
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Clark:
Canterbury Bells
Cornflower
Forget-me-not
Kara:
Dessert Rose
Black eyed Susan
Russian sage
Lois:
Dandelion
Iris
Clematis
Jimmy:
Cosmos
Pansy
Lotus
Dahlia
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mossyoss · 3 months
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Sometimes it looks like splotches of color and nothing else
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stevie-petey · 5 months
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episode two: the mall rats
Steve lazily drapes an arm over you, which Dustin narrows his eyes at. “Yeah, I mean. Sure. It’s not really a good idea for me, though. I gotta keep in shape for the ladies.” “Ugh,” you scoff in disgust at Steve’s words and shrug his arm off of you before scooting away from him. Sometimes you forget how much of an idiot he can be. That he used to wear the crown of King Steve. You turn slightly away from him and finish eating your ice cream, annoyed and slightly hurt, though you know you have no right to be. It’s not like you’re with Steve, anyways.
Summary: dreams are weird, billy is a hitchhiker, and hopper flirts with joyce in front of you (youre not sure which is scarier), somehow robin knows russian and has genius ears, you get caught in an awkward breakup showdown, and you shamefully are shocked when you discover that hawkins is anything but normal. you would think youd be a pro at this already, but at least steve is hot and really good at sneaking through windows.
Rating: general, some swearing
Warnings: swearing, allusions to violence, fem!reader, use of y/n
Words: 13.2k
Before you swing in: hello !!! new chapter, i am so sorry for the wait :/ the end of the semester has been killer and ive been super busy with my lab job (i present at a conference friday ... pray for me). heres chapter 2, she somehow ended up being 13k words but lets ignore that for my own sanity !
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There are dandelions all around you.
Their puffs of white surround you as the seeds dance in the air and settle atop of your head and tickle your cheek. They’re soft, reminiscent of the snow that encases you every winter in Hawkins and the days you used to chase Jonathan around in his backyard.
You’re barefoot in a field that you can’t quite place. The grass below you skims against your ankles as the dandelion seeds float towards the tops of the green. It’s a familiar landscape, something tells you that you’ve been here before, and the thought is almost reassuring to you.
The sun is warm against you and there’s someone in the distance. You open your mouth to call out to them, they feel as familiar as the landscape before you does, but when you try to speak, the dandelion seeds begin to swarm into your mouth. The puffs of white seem to turn into daggers in your throat as they cut your tongue and slice inside you as you struggle to breathe.
You try to scream, but nothing comes out. The dandelions now draw blood as they continue their malicious attack on you. You claw at your mouth and cower in the field, trying to flee from what’s attacking you, but the dandelions only follow as you try to call after the figure you saw in the distance.
Stumbling blindly through the grass, panic stricken and longing for the person who had once been at the top of the hill, your foot catches on a root and suddenly you’re falling. This time, you do scream, and the dandelion seeds spill from your mouth as you fall into an endless abyss.
“Y/N!” Your eyes fly open and your body shoots from your bed; you almost head butt Dustin in the process. He flinches back, startled by your violent reaction, and he puts his hands up in surrender and backs away. “Geesh, I was just trying to wake you up.”
It takes you a few moments to process that you are, in fact, awake. Your heartbeat is still pounding rapidly in your throat. You can still feel the dandelion seeds on your tongue and the millions of little cuts they left behind.
Dustin stares at you with slight concern in his eyes and you clear your throat, trying to rid the memory of your dream. That’s all it was. A dream.
Clearing your throat again, you try to calm yourself down. “Why are you in my room?”
“Like I said, I was trying to wake you up.” Your brother says as if you’re an idiot.
“But why?”
“Did you bang your head or something last night?” He gives you an odd look and you glare at him. “Cerebro caught a Russian code, remember? You promised we’d see Steve today to talk about it!”
You rub your eyes, exhausted. It’s taking longer than usual for your mind to wake up and process everything. “I know, I know… What time is it?”
“Eight, now get up and go get pretty for Steve so we can discuss how to become American heroes.” Dustin crosses his arms, silently daring you to argue.
“There was so much wrong with that sentence,” you groan, but reluctantly throw your blankets off of you and start pulling out random shorts and a t-shirt to wear. “You’re lucky it’s the weekend and I don’t work today.”
“Blah, blah, blah,” Dustin mocks you, tossing you a white t-shirt and removing the red one from your hands. “Steve likes you in white, now hurry up.”
Your mouth drops in shock, but your brother simply rolls his eyes at you and leaves your room so that you can get dressed.
“How does he even know that?” You whisper to yourself, now alone in your room.
Dustin bikes ahead of you as you make your way to Joyce’s store in Downtown Hawkins. He had complained when you told him that you needed to make a pitstop there before going to the mall.
“I haven’t seen Steve in a month!”
“And Mrs. Byers is close to losing her job at Melvald’s, so you can wait the extra five minute detour it takes to deliver her muffins to cheer her up.”
Your brother had tried to argue some more, but you simply shoved a fresh baked muffin in his mouth and began to bike away.
Now, as the two of you head towards Downtown, the early morning air fills your lungs and slowly wakes you up. It’s quiet, Hawkins isn’t quite awake yet in the early hour. Only the bees buzzing past your ear seem to be lively.
You watch Dustin up ahead and briefly marvel at how much bigger he seems to have gotten in the month he was away at camp. He looks older, more mature, no longer the baby brother your mom brought home fourteen years ago.
As you’re lost in your reminiscence, you almost miss the figure that stumbles along the side of the road.
“Dustin!” You yell at the boy, weary of whoever is up ahead. “Stop!”
He hears the fear in your voice and screeches his bike to a halt. Turning around, he checks to make sure you’re okay. “Did something happen?”
You stop next to him and discreetly point at the figure a few yards away. It seems to be a boy, maybe a teen your age, but he’s walking as if he’s in immense pain. “You see that?”
“Yeah,” Dustin squints and also seems unnerved by the person’s appearance. “Think it’s anything dangerous?”
“I don’t know…” Something feels familiar about the person. Their hair, the way it’s styled, reminds you of someone. You squint as well, your eyes catch on the person’s leather jacket and the expensive brand, there’s a faint outline of cigarettes in the pocket, and the sight fills your nose with the smoke that once choked you last winter. “I think it’s Billy.”
“Why is he walking on the side of the road?” Dustin makes a face. “I know he has a car, the bastard almost ran me and the party over on Halloween.”
You tuck a piece of hair behind your ear and try to understand why you feel this tug within you to get closer to the teen. Billy is cruel, he is horrible, and the bruises he left on your neck took weeks to fully fade away. Yet there’s a concern within you as you watch him stumble, as if in some daze, and it's this worry that solidifies your decision. “Stay here.”
“What–” Dustin turns and sees that you’ve gotten back on your bike and are now pedaling towards Billy. “Y/N! Are you insane?”
“Stay here!” You order, not really understanding why you’re doing this either. “Just… Wait for my signal!”
Dustin curses, not at all liking this plan, but he listens. He tightens his grip on his bike’s handlebar and makes sure you never leave his line of sight in case you need him for backup.
As you approach Billy, you make sure to circle widely around him so that he sees you coming, before finally facing in front of him. You brake a few feet away from him, incredibly nervous for how he may react. You haven’t spoken to him since last winter, he had kept his promise to Max to leave you alone.
Billy barely seems to register that you’re in front of him. He stops as if he’s in a trance and blinks slowly at you. You notice the cut on his forehead, how there’s still fresh blood dripping from it, and something within you wants to tend to the wound. Then you notice the grime that covers his face and his jacket, and you begin to worry even more.
As you’re eying his disheveled appearance, Billy opens his mouth, and the action looks as if it takes all the energy within him to do so. “S–sweetheart?”
“Are you okay?” You ignore the nickname he gave you that makes your skin crawl. You’re more worried about his appearance. He’s sweating like crazy, almost as if he’s on drugs, and he’s paler than normal. His California tan is gone, his eyes are glazed over, he looks as if he isn’t really here with you right now.
It scares you. You’ve never seen him like this.
“‘M fine,” Billy slurs. He seems… off. More drawn into himself now, less sure of himself. Scared, even. It’s a strange sight to see: Billy Hargrove, alone and frightened, in the early morning of June. “I… I’m fine.”
His slurred words aren’t reassuring, and a part of you wants to offer him a ride on your bike. You assume he’s heading to the local pool to lifeguard, you know it’s where he spends most of his days, but you have Dustin with you and you’re still nervous around Billy.
The wounds he gave you may have healed, but some nights, when the nightmares are really bad, you wake up to his hands around your throat.
It feels wrong just leaving Billy like this, though. He’s still human, Max has slowly opened up to you about her abusive stepdad and the way he punches her brother. You know that Billy’s actions come from his hurt, but you don’t think you’re ready yet to forgive him. Not now, at least.
Reluctantly, you sigh and wave your hand to indicate to Dustin that he’s fine to start biking over. Billy doesn’t seem like a threat right now in his current state. When you see your brother start to pedal closer, you look back at Billy. “Listen, I know we aren’t… friends.”
Billy stares blankly at you, and you really hope that he can understand what you’re saying right now.
“But if you need anyone to talk to, about anything, come find me, okay?” You tell him, hesitantly placing a hand on his arm as you speak. However, when your skin makes contact with his, you flinch at how cold he is.
Before you can say anything else, Dustin finally catches up and brakes softly next to you. He looks nervously between you and Billy. “So… Uh. Ready to go, Y/N?”
“Yeah…” You pull away from Billy, your fingers almost numb from his cold skin, and spare him one last glance as you start to bike away. “Remember what I said, okay?”
Billy doesn’t say anything.
You and Dustin leave him stranded on the side of the road.
Neither one of you talk about this.
As usual, Downtown Hawkins is deserted when you and Dustin arrive at Melvald’s. The only two cars parked in front of the rundown store belong to Joyce and Hopper.
You hop off your bike and park it in the bike rack before carefully untying the container of muffins from the back. Dustin is slumped on top of his bike, silently complaining, and you wave a stern finger at him. “Wait here, okay? This will only take five minutes, I promise.”
“I’m telling Steve that you’re cheating on him with Mrs. Byers.”
“Not cheating if we aren’t together,” you quip, before opening the door to the store.
When you step inside the store, you’re greeted with Hopper obnoxiously yelling and jumping around as Joyce laughs and claps for him. Curious, you carefully side step the grown man and make your way over to the woman.
“Y/N!” Joyce lights up even more when she sees you, and then lets out a small cheer when she sees that you’re holding one of your signature baked goods containers. “Are those for me?”
“Always, Mrs. Byers.” You grin at her and set the container down. “They’re the muffins you really liked last week, thought I’d bake a special batch just for you.”
Hopper now joins you at the store’s counter in front of Joyce. He’s practically vibrating with his excited energy, so much so that he even smiles at you and claps a hand behind your back. “Kid, it’s like you knew we’d be celebrating a monumental occasion today.”
“What, did Jonathan finally wash his bedsheets?”
Joyce shakes her head and Hopper claps again, now grasping your shoulders and shakes you around. “No, even better! I got Mike out of my house!”
Through Joyce, you had learned all about Hopper’s utter disdain of Mike’s relationship with El. He has spent every day at their cabin since getting together, and even you have had to pry the girl away from Mike a few times to hang out with her. It’s hard bonding with El when Mike is breathing down your neck.
You’re all for young love, you think they’re adorable together, but christ. You understand Hopper’s frustration.
“Actually,” you’re still being shaken by the man. “That does sound better. How’d ya do it?”
Hearing your question, Hopper thankfully stops shaking your shoulders and now happily points at Joyce. “It was all her. I’m the puppet, she’s the master. Joyce gave me a brilliant script to say to the kid.”
“So you remembered everything?” Joyce asks, now unwrapping one of your muffins with glee.
“Yeah… well,” Hopper pauses. “I mean, I had to improvise a little bit, you know?”
You wince. “Oh, that’s never good.”
He glares at you but continues to explain. “It turns out that getting to Mike was the key.”
His words only make you wince again, and you look at Joyce. She meets your eye and the two of you silently agree that something doesn’t sound right here. She questions Hopper further. “And you didn’t yell at him?”
Hopper hesitates, which you expected. “I’ll… tell you everything over dinner.”
“Okay!” You step in between the adults and wave your arms out, preventing whatever else is about to be said. “I’m still here, let’s remember that.”
The chief glares at you again and narrows his eyes. “You’re right, you are still here. Why are you still here?”
“Because Mrs. Byers loves me and I baked her delicious muffins.” You deadpan, which Joyce chuckles at. “And while I’m sure whatever she told you to say to Mike was lovely, I have my doubts that you actually listened.”
“She’s got a point, Hop.” Joyce voices.
Hopper sighs at you both. “Okay, maybe I said some things, haven’t told El the whole truth, but what else was I supposed to do?”
“Not lie to kids?” Crossing your arms, you make a face at the man.
“Easy for you to say, little miss Hawkins’ sweetheart.” Hopper scoffs at you. “Got any better advice?”
You roll your eyes at his words. You understand that the man is still grappling with being a father again, he’s never been one to handle feelings any better, so you spare him some pity and try to be honest with him, say what he needs to hear. “Look, all I’m saying is that the best thing my deadbeat father ever did was teach me kindness, and it broke my heart when he was dishonest in the end. Just, don’t be that way with El, okay?”
Hopper is quiet as your words hang in the air.
Joyce is quiet as well, looking between you and the chief with a fondness in her eyes. It’s not often she sees someone render Hopper speechless, and she knows that it’s one of the many things she loves the most about your relationship with him. Though she would never tell you this, she thinks that Hopper secretly has his own fondness for you as well.
When the silence stretches for an uncomfortably long amount of time, you clear your throat and change the subject. “Well! This was fun, happy we did this.”
Hopper snorts, relieved you’re moving on as well. “Get lost, kid.”
“Gladly.” You turn back to Joyce and press a swift kiss to her cheek. “I’ll see you later, Mrs. Byers!”
Joyce says goodbye as well, and when you’ve left the store, she faces Hopper with a slight smirk. “She’s a good kid, Hop.”
“She is,” he agrees, looking down at his shoes. He will never admit this to anyone else, but to Joyce he knows his words are safe. “She’s the best of ‘em.”
When you finally get to the mall, Dustin basically dumps his bike in a spot next to a disgruntled older couple and runs before you can even slow down. He’s so lost in his excitement to see Steve as he runs towards Scoops and leaves you to deal with his bike and the couple alone, which you groan at.
“He acts like it’s been a year,” you grumble, finally hopping off your own bike to grab Dustin’s and secure them both to a nearby rack. After mumbling a quick apology to the couple your brother practically threw a bike at, you run after him inside.
By the time you catch up, Dustin has just entered Scoops and is talking to Robin. You approach, curious to see how this event will unfold. Robin hasn’t met your brother yet, and you have a feeling that his abrasive nature will either make her his biggest fan or absolutely hate him.
It’s the Henderson charm, really.
“I’m Dustin,” your brother introduces himself as you come to stand next to him. When he notices your arrival, he motions towards you and winks at Robin. “I’m sure Y/N has told you all about me.”
Robin raises her eyebrows at the kid, and you try to cover a giggle with a cough. “I’m Robin. I’m sure Y/N has told you a lot about me.”
“I probably have,” shrug, knowing you always talk about the people you love. When Robin and Dustin both look at you with confused faces, you quickly clarify, “I’ve talked about you both, I mean.”
“Can we cut the chit chat?” Dustin asks, now annoyed by how long this conversation is taking. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Robin, but uh. Is he here?”
“Is who here?” Robin looks over at you for help, but before you can prepare her for the inevitable storm of Steve’s bizarre and endearing friendship with Dustin, the older teen’s body comes crashing through the backdoor and his sneakers squeak loudly against the tile.
“Hendersons!” Steve raises his arms in the air in greeting, an ecstatic smile on his face when he sees both you and Dustin standing in Scoops Ahoy. You and your brother start to laugh as Steve now dances around, cheering and gleeful. “You’re both here! Little Henderson is back!”
“I’m back!” Dustin cheers. “And you got the job!”
Steve is beaming and his smile is probably one of the happiest you’ve seen cross his pretty face. He had complained about missing Dustin the entire month he had been gone, moaning and groaning about how he was bored at your house now that he didn’t have Dustin to shoo away.
“I got the job!” Steve mimes playing the trumpet before he starts his intricate and dumb handshake with Dustin.
It’s a complicated process, with fist bumps and pretend lightsaber death. They had come up with it during a particularly boring snow day at your house. You watched as they thought up the handshake while you made cocoa for everyone, heart swelling as Steve was so patient with your brother and encouraged his nerdy little habits.
It had taken them almost the entire day to create what they deemed “the perfect handshake”, and as they go through it once more in Scoops Ahoy, you feel the same swelling in your chest as you did the very first time you saw them come up with the handshake.
While you gaze fondly at Dustin and Steve, Robin stands next to you and watches in horror. As Steve pretends to spew his guts everywhere, the girl leans over to you and says, “Is this what you deal with every day?”
“Yeah,” you can’t help but smile softly at the two boys. You missed seeing them together, more than you thought you had.
Robin sees the dreamy look in your eyes as you stare at Steve and she gags. Unhappy with how this day is looking, she turns to him. “How many children are you friends with?”
Steve’s smile falls and he sighs in defeat. Wordlessly he points at Robin as he looks at Dustin and raises his eyebrows in an exasperated manner. He’s had to deal with Robin’s teasing all summer, and Dustin seems to catch onto what he’s trying to tell him, so he quickly changes the subject. “Sorry we got here so late, man. Y/N insisted on gossiping with Mrs. Byers before coming here.”
“I spoke with her for five minutes.” You roll your eyes at him.
“Yeah, five minutes too long.”
“Your breath reeks.”
“You have a pimple on your chin.”
You gasp and quickly cover your face. “I do not–”
“This is fascinating,” Robin whispers as she looks between you and Dustin. “It’s like there’s two Y/Ns.”
Steve, having heard Robin, laughs. His smile had returned to his face as he watched you interact with your brother. “They’re reunited for one day and are already at each other’s throats.”
“Got a month of insults to catch up on,” you flick Steve, who winces and rubs his nose, offended.
Dustin suddenly straightens up. “Speaking of catching up…” He looks at you and tries to subtly motion over at Steve, mouthing “Russians!”, and being everything but discrete.
Steve frowns, unsure what’s happening, but you’re too busy worrying about revealing anything to Robin; she’s scarily good at reading people. Looking wearily at her, you clear your throat and tug at Dustin’s shirt. “C’mon, why don’t we get some ice cream and tell Steve about what you built at camp?”
Again Steve frowns. He had been hoping to share a sundae with you, not talk about boring science stuff with your brother. “Why do I wanna hear about some weird nerd tech–”
“Because you promised me free ice cream last night, when we called.” You interrupt, silently pleading with him to catch onto what you’re saying. “Remember?”
Something shifts within Steve’s eyes and his carefree expression now darkens. He remembers the fear in your voice last night over the phone, how you had asked him to tell you stories to fall asleep to. Clearing his throat, Steve nods and plays along. “Oh, how could I forget? Take Dustin to your booth and I’ll whip up some sundaes.”
You smile at him, thankful as always for how attuned to you he is, before you say a quick goodbye to Robin and tug your brother over to where you normally sit. Once you’re sure Robin isn’t listening, you yank at the boy. “Real subtle back there, doofus.”
“Oh, like Robin would know what Russians could mean.” Dustin grumbles as he slides into your designated booth. His hand catches on something in the seat and he tugs at it, pulling out an old Captain America comic. Holding it up, he narrows his eyes at you. “You really made a home here, huh?”
“Sure did,” you prop your feet up and dig out the Spider-Man comic you had been reading a few days ago. “The ice cream is surprisingly good here.”
“Yeah, I’m sure the ice cream is the reason you’re always here.” Dustin doesn’t even want to imagine how many hours you’ve spent in this cheesy ice cream parlor ogling over Steve. Maybe it’s a good thing he was gone most of the summer.
You flip to the last page you left off on and ignore Dustin’s insinuation. “Hey, free ice cream is free ice cream.”
“Can’t argue with you there.” Steve arrives and places down two giant sundaes onto the table. He slides next to you into the booth with a grand flourish. “Tada!”
Dustin wastes no time digging into his ice cream, making obnoxious noises as he shoves the food into his mouth. You cringe, disgusted that you’re related to him, but Steve kisses your cheek when the kid isn’t looking, and you can’t help but smile. Sneaking your own kiss to his cheek, you thank him. “You’re getting really good at whipping up sundaes, Steve.”
He preens at your praise. “It’s all in the forearms, ya know?” He makes a show out of rolling up his sleeves to show off his arms, which you giggle at with a slight flush on your face. Despite working inside all day, Steve has a nice sun kissed tan, which compliments how long his hair has gotten this summer.
Between his short Scoops Ahoy shorts and his hair streaked with sunlight, summer looks good on Steve.
In between bites of his ice cream, Dustin lifts his head up. “Quit talking about Steve’s arms and flirting in front of me, it’s gross.”
You fling a banana peel at him. “You’re the one too busy devouring his food to talk about anything else.”
“So you admit you’re flirting with me.” Steve teases, winking at you.
Dustin covers his eyes in disgust, forgetting about his ice cream entirely. “Seriously, stop it! You’re my sister, how would you feel if I flirted with Suzie in front of you?”
“I would–” You try to think of a response, but ultimately you deflate, unable to come up with anything. Frustratingly, you realize that the kid has a point; you’d be incredibly grossed out as well. “I would hate it.” You sigh, accepting defeat.
“Who’s Suzie?” Steve asks.
“Dustin’s girlfriend.” You say, popping a cherry into your mouth as you eagerly await the teen’s reaction to the girlfriend news.
As expected, Steve’s jaw drops and turns to your brother. No way the little twerp got a girlfriend before him this summer. “Girlfriend? Since when?”
“Met her at camp,” Dustin smirks at him, proud he’s surprised Steve. “She’s super hot, too. Hotter than Phoebe Cates.”
You roll your eyes at his insistence of referencing Suzie’s appearance, but Steve seems interested, although in disbelief as well. “No, no way. Hotter than Phoebe Cates? No.”
“Why is Phoebe Cates the gold standard?” You ask, unsure when she became everyone’s dream woman. All things considered, she’s incredibly attractive, but it’s weird that every boy you’ve spoken to about this universally finds her attractive. Steve finds her attractive, which you’re choosing not to think about because you don’t look anything like her.
Steve hears the slight bitterness in your tone and shuffles closer to you in the booth. Meanwhile, Dustin takes another bite out of his sundae and nods at him. “Mhm, she’s brilliant, too. She doesn’t even care that my real pearls are still coming in.”
“That’s great, Dustin!” You say, happy that your brother has found a girl who accepts him as he is. It’s sweet, really.
“I know, right?” He sits up straighter in the booth and smiles even wider. “She says kissing is better without teeth.”
You and Steve share a horrified look. Neither of you can believe what you’ve just heard, and you think a part of you died inside. Suddenly, the delicious sundae you’d been eating now turns to cement in your stomach at the thought of your little brother kissing a girl who enjoys his lack of teeth. “Oh, that’s… Yeah.”
“Wow!” Steve tries to mask his own horror and disgust, leaning even closer to you now to try and ground you as well. “Yeah, that’s… That’s great! Proud of you, man. That’s–That’s kinda romantic?”
Dustin basks in Steve’s praise and your disgust slowly melts away. Your brother genuinely seems happy to be with Suzie and even happier to tell Steve about it all. He won’t admit it, but you know he idolizes the teen. Steve’s word is like an oath to him, not even you have this much influence over the boy. If it were anyone else, you’d be offended and hurt, but seeing Steve flash Dustin a wink, you couldn’t have chosen anyone better for your brother to admire.
“So do you really just get to eat as much of this as you want?” Dustin motions towards his half-eaten sundae before turning to you. “How much ice cream have you had this summer?”
“A lot,” you shrug, taking another bite of your own sundae.
Steve lazily drapes an arm over you, which Dustin narrows his eyes at. “Yeah, I mean. Sure. It’s not really a good idea for me, though. I gotta keep in shape for the ladies.”
“Ugh,” you scoff in disgust at Steve’s words and shrug his arm off of you before scooting away from him. Sometimes you forget how much of an idiot he can be. That he used to wear the crown of King Steve. You turn slightly away from him and finish eating your ice cream, annoyed and slightly hurt, though you know you have no right to be.
It’s not like you’re with Steve, anyways.
Robin, from across the parlor, sees your sudden annoyance at Steve and calls out to him, “Yeah, and how’s that working out for you?”
“Ignore her,” Steve groans, not having the energy to deal with Robin’s quips and your anger being directed at him. He turns to you and lowers his voice. “I was kidding, Y/N. You know that–”
“Robin seems cool,” Dustin interrupts, not at all wanting to witness a lover’s feud between you and Steve. He left you two alone for a month, he thought he’d come back to you guys being an old married couple. Instead, he still has to suffer through your weird in between chaos.
You jump at the chance to gush about Robin, all while avoiding Steve’s pleading eyes. “She’s amazing. Genuinely one of the coolest people I know.”
“She’s not.” Steve corrects you, shaking his head. You roll your eyes at him and flick his ear, but as your hand lowers, he catches it with his and intertwines your fingers with a practiced ease. The action makes you blush and look away, still not ready to forgive him just yet. Steve sees the blush and feels your fingers tighten around his and he feels as if he can breathe again. There’s hope, at least. “So, where are the other knuckleheads?”
Dustin sighs. “They ditched me yesterday.”
“No,” Steve can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Y/N, did they really?”
“They… Kinda did.” You wince, absentmindedly placing your other hand on top of the one Steve is holding. He smiles softly at the action, momentarily forgetting about what you've just told him.
“My first day back! Can you believe that shit?” Dustin’s hurt from last night returns, which only makes you feel worse.
Steve leans forward now, invested and equally as offended as the boy. “Seriously?”
“I swear to god,” Dustin pauses to take another bite of ice cream. “They’re gonna regret it, though, big time, when they don’t get to share in my glory.”
You drop your head onto the table and groan. “Is this really how you’re going to segue into the Russian thing?”
“You’re my sister. Why would you expect anything less of me?”
“Touche.” You lift your head back up and continue eating your ice cream. It’s the only thing keeping you going right now. Steve has learned how to make your sundaes perfect, adding the peach ice cream you adore with just the right amount of whipped cream.
Meanwhile, Steve has a confused look on his face as he looks between you and Dustin. “Glory? Russians? Did I miss something?”
Dustin smiles mischievously and lowers his voice as he slides closer to the teen. You roll your eyes at his antics, knowing that the conversation that’s about to unfold will only give you another headache. You missed Steve and Dustin being together, but you didn’t miss the way they seemed to double in stupidity when together.
Looking around to make sure he won’t be heard, Dustin begins to explain. “So, last night, as Y/N and I were trying to get in contact with Suzie…” He pauses, sees that Scoops Ahoy is now filling with more customers, and lowers his voice even more to an almost inaudible whisper and covers his mouth.
You and Steve both lean forward, unable to hear him. The teen asks Dustin to repeat himself while you sit there with slight amazement. You know what Dustin is trying to say, you’re more just surprised the kid can be so quiet. It’s a goddamn miracle, honestly.
Dustin inhales deeply and again tries to discreetly inform Steve of the Russian code, but his whispers are still too low to hear. Taking a final bite of your ice cream, you click your tongue at your brother. “You’re really killing it there, buddy.”
“Dude, just speak louder.” Steve’s curious interest is now more of an annoyance.
“I intercepted a secret Russian communication!” Dustin all but shouts, which causes you to practically throw yourself over the table to cover his mouth.
“Jesus fuck!” You look around and see everyone’s eyes on you, and with your hand still clamped firmly over your brother’s mouth, you clear your throat and laugh nervously. “I mean, haha. Pardon me.” The customers give you a weird look but turn away, though Robin continues to stare at you.
Steve gently removes your hand from Dustin’s mouth and once again intertwines his fingers with yours. “Jeez, okay. Yeah. That’s what I thought you said.”
“Did you have to yell?” You sneer at Dustin, still looking around nervously to make sure no one is paying too much attention to the three of you. While Hawkin’s Lab was overrun by Demodogs and every scientist within it died, you’re still terrified that they still have allies watching your every move.
Not that you think the Lab is responsible for Russians, but… Better safe than sorry.
Dustin rolls his eyes at you. “Your boyfriend is the one who couldn’t hear me.”
You’re about to correct him when Steve waves the boy off and goes back to the main topic. “What does any of that mean, though? The Russian code and whatever.”
“It means that we can never catch a break–”
“It means, Steve,” Dustin sends you a dirty look. “That we could be heroes. True American heroes.”
Steve seems into the idea and you want to scream. You hate the way Dustin is explaining all of this. “This could mean danger, guys.”
Dustin rolls his eyes at you and Steve smiles wearily. “I don’t know, Y/N. It doesn’t seem so bad, ya know? We’ve fought Demodogs, how bad could some Russians be?”
You cross your arms and narrow your eyes. “The Demodogs were created by shifty government facilities. Why are we assuming Russia doesn’t have their own?”
“But… American heroes.” Steve looks heartbreakingly pathetic as he says this, and you realize now that his fixation on being seen as some hero stems from the hurt he still feels over his father. He hadn’t turned into who had expected to become, something that you know his father reminds him of every time he comes back from some business trip. You wish you could convince Steve that he’s more than what his father could ever expect him to be, but you know he wouldn’t listen.
With Steve’s pleading eyes looking at you, lost and hopeless, you can’t argue with him. Sighing, you accept that this is something he has to take part in, if only to rebuild his crumbling confidence. “Tell him what you’re thinking, Dustin.”
“Gladly.” Your brother wastes no time diving in, once more eager and excited to have the attention on him, and it’s only now that you realize he’s doing this for the same reason Steve is: they both feel abandoned and hurt. “We need your help.”
“With what?”
Dustin digs through his backpack and takes out the Russian dictionary he made you steal from work. He holds it up and shows it to Steve. “Translation.”
Steve’s eyes widen and he grabs the book to inspect it. There’s a new spark in his eyes, one that died the day his father told him he wouldn’t attend his graduation. “Holy shit.”
“Yeah,” you exhale and slump in your seat. There’s no going back now. “I just want you both to know that I hate this plan and your excitement over it, but if I don’t help then you guys will somehow end up in a Russian gulag, and that would just be on me.”
Steve shares a look with Dustin, whose sigh reflects your own. “Glad you have faith in us, Y/N.”
It’s Steve's idea to work on the translation in the backroom of Scoops Ahoy, and neither you or Dustin argue. Technically, he’s the only one who has any real responsibilities today with work and all, so it makes sense to stay at Scoops and hide out there.
Dustin sits at the table next to you as he replays the tape recording over and over again. Steve paces the room and eats a banana, claiming he needed “brain food” to focus on the complex Russian language. You sit with your head in your hands, trying desperately to hold onto the bizarre language that floats around the room.
After his tenth time replaying the code, Dustin pauses the recording and looks at you and Steve. “So, what do you guys think?”
“It sounded familiar.” Steve shoves a piece of banana into his mouth. You cringe at the obscene amount of food he tries to chew at once. Seeing your disgust, Steve waves the banana in your face and asks with a mouthful of food, “Wan sum?”
“It’s like you want me to hate you today,” you slap the banana away, which he chuckles at.
Dustin gets both of your attention again with slight annoyance. He didn’t miss the weird flirting between the two of you at all. “Guys, focus. What do you mean the recording sounds familiar?”
“The music,” Steve still speaks with his mouth full. “The music right there at the end.”
“Why are you listening to the music, Steve?” Dustin exclaims, exasperated.
As your brother berates Steve for his lack of Russian translating, you sit up in your seat processing what he’s just previously said. While you hadn’t thought much of it before, now that Steve has pointed it out, the music does sound familiar. You swear you’ve heard it somewhere before, but you can’t remember where or when. It’s a hazy memory, distant in your mind, yet right in front of you. It’s incredibly frustrating.
“I think Steve is onto something,” you say, but the two boys are too busy fighting to hear you.
“I’m trying to listen to the Russian but there’s music–”
Suddenly the back door swings open and Robin appears. She looks agitated after having to man the cash register all by herself while Steve hides out in the breakroom. “Alright, babysitting time is over. You need to get in there.” When she sees that you’ve erased her whiteboard and replaced her “you suck” columns with the Russian alphabet, her agitation only increases. “Hey, my board! That was important data, shitbirds.”
You get up from the table and walk up to the girl, feeling bad. While you aren’t sure what exactly her “you suck” column and tallies were for, it had been her creation that you had erased without thinking to ask. Plus, you really don’t want her seeing the Russian dictionary on the table. “I’m sorry, Robin–”
“Not you, Y/N. You’re not a shitbird,” she points over to Steve and Dustin. “Those two are shitbirds.”
“I guarantee you, what we’re doing is way more important than your data.” Dustin interjects, a smug look on his face that makes you want to scream. He isn’t at all helping the situation.
Robin begins to walk over to the boys and you reluctantly follow. “Yeah? And how do you know these Russians are up to no good anyways?”
Dustin’s jaw drops and Steve almost chokes on his banana. Seeing their stunned reactions of Robin having figured out what you’ve been doing, you sigh in disappointment. They’re such idiots sometimes. They wrote Russian on the whiteboard, out in the open, and have been playing the recording out loud, full volume, on repeat.
Of course Robin caught onto what you were doing.
Which only makes your nervous body tense up even more. You hate that you have to lie to her, you’ve become really close with her during your visits to Scoops, but you don’t want to drag her into anything dangerous. You’re not sure what exactly any of this Russian code means, but Robin has been nothing but kind to you this summer, you truly care about her, and it would kill you if something were to happen because of you.
So, despite knowing how smart Robin is, you try to think of a cover story. “We were just interested in the language. Ya know, a summer hobby.”
“I can hear everything, Y/N.” Robin sees right through your lies. “Your idiotic brother and boyfriend are both extremely loud.”
“Steve isn’t my boyfriend–”
“You three think you have evil Russians plotting against our country, on tape and you’re trying to translate, but haven’t figured out a word because you didn’t realize Russians use an entirely different alphabet than we do.”
You, Steve, and Dustin all look at one another in varying degrees of awe and despair.
Robin, seeing your stunned faces, smiles. “Sound about right?”
“How could you not know about the Russian alphabet, Y/N?” Dustin angrily whispers at you as if somehow it’s your responsibility to know the ins-and-outs of the language.
“Why would I–you know what, no.” You ignore your brother and turn to Robin, trying to alleviate the situation and prevent her from finding out anything else. She’s too fucking smart, it’s both admirable and aggravating. “Look, whatever you think you heard–”
Suddenly Robin lunges for the Russian dictionary on the table, but Steve’s quick reflexes enable him to grab the book before she can. “Woah! What do you think you’re doing?”
“I wanna hear it.” She juts her chin out in defiance, though you see the slightly hurt expression she tries to mask. She hates that you’re purposely excluding her and taking Steve’s side in this.
You wish you could tell her the truth.
“Why?” You ask in unison alongside Steve and Dustin.
“Because maybe I can help. I’m fluent in four languages, ya know.”
Dustin perks up, now more open to the idea of Robin’s involvement. “Russian?”
“Ou-yay are-yay umb-day.”
Steve and Dustin gasp, believing that they’ve just heard Robin say something in Russian, but you know better. One summer, when the party had been especially nosy and insisted on following you and Jonathan around, the two of you had learned pig latin in order to communicate without the twerps eavesdropping.
Learning against the table, you smirk at Robin. “Osay ouyay owknay igpay atinlay.”
“Holy shit!” Dustin gasps and Steve almost falls over with how quickly he looks at you in shock. Both boys stare at you in awe and you almost feel bad for their tiny little brains.
Robin can’t help but smile at you, you somehow always manage to surprise her. “Impressive, Y/N. Didn’t think you knew pig latin either.”
“That was pig latin?” Steve scrunches his face and hits your brother with his banana peel. “Idiot.”
“Steve, please don’t hit my brother with banana peels,” you pinch the bridge of your nose. It’s only noon and you’re already exhausted from today’s events. “But yes, that was pig latin.”
Dustin shoves Steve away from him and focuses on you again. “When did you learn pig latin?”
“The summer you and the party decided to stalk me and Jonathan.” You shrug, though you smile fondly at the memory. It had been a good summer, just the two of you holed up in your room as you quizzed each other on the bizarre language.
Steve, seeing your fondness at the memory, frowns. He doesn’t like the uncomfortable heat that he feels ignite within his stomach at the thought of you still being so fond over Jonathan. He trusts you, he trusts what you have, but he will never feel equal to him.
Robin notices Steve’s brewing insecurity and quickly changes the subject. She doesn’t have time for the usual hormonal drama between the two of you. All she wants right now is to decipher the Russian so that she can catch a break from Erica and her demanding need to try every free sample ever. “Back to the main point: I can speak Spanish and French and Italian, and I’ve been in band for twelve years. My ears are little geniuses, trust me.”
You bite your lip. Truthfully, Robin has the highest chance of unraveling whatever the hell is in the recording. You’re horrible with languages, high school Spanish had nearly killed you, and Steve and Dustin stand no better chance. “Robin…”
“Come on,” she begs. “It’s Steve's turn to sling ice cream and my turn to translate.”
Steve and Dustin turn to you, unanimously agreeing that you’re the leader in this situation; whatever call you make, they’ll listen. Robin sees the conflict on your face and tries one last time. “I don’t even want credit. I’m just bored and wanna hang out with you.”
Your head spins. Robin’s pleading eyes are hard to fight against and you realize that she already knows more than you’d want her to; she’s already a part of it all, whether you like it or not. Sighing, you give in. “Fine, but only if you promise not to ask any questions about whatever we may find.”
“What would I even question?” She asks, unsure why your tone is more foreboding than accepting.
You share a look with Steve and Dustin. The three of you know just how quickly something simple can spiral into chaos in Hawkins. “Just… promise me, okay?”
Robin extends her hand, just happy to finally have something better to do. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
After you shake her hand, she tosses her ice cream scoop to Steve and he hands her the Russian dictionary. Seeing the exchange sends a slight shiver down your spine. You don’t like how much it feels like you’ve just signed Robin’s life away.
True to her word, Robin’s ears are little geniuses.
With her helping, you and Dustin are able to speed through the translating as Steve works the register. You’re tasked with writing down the letters that Dustin calls from the whiteboard as Robin listens to the tape over and over again.
“Weird ‘r’ with a hook!” Your brother declares for the last letter.
You write it down and can’t help but frown at the message you’ve seemingly deciphered. Showing the writing to Robin, you ask what she thinks. “Are you sure it was that weird ‘r’ sound?”
“I’m positive,” she says. “C’mon, let’s go tell Steve.”
“Are we sure–” You try to ask her again, but Robin has already made her way to the sliding window and gets Steve’s attention.
“We’ve got our first sentence!”
You make your way over and lean against the window as well. Steve, holding two ice cream cones, seems excited by the news. “Oh, seriously?”
“It’s a hesitant first sentence.” You butt in, still unsure if it’s even correct.
Robin rolls her eyes at you. “Ignore her, I’m right.” Then, clearing her throat, she does an impressive Russian accent. “‘The week is long’.”
Steve’s shoulders slump, clearly having expected something better. “Well that’s thrilling.”
“Told you it was a hesitant first sentence.” Then you turn to Robin. “Nice accent, by the way.”
“Why thank you,” she tips her hat at you before focusing back on Steve. “And I know it isn’t thrilling, but it’s progress!”
And with that, Robin spins around and goes back to the table in the breakroom, eager to decipher more of the code. You’re about to kiss Steve’s cheek and say goodbye, but then your eyes land on a familiar red-haired girl and her friend standing in front of the register. You look down at the ice cream in Steve’s hands and note the familiar order you’ve come to memorize since the mall opened.
“Max? El?” You lean further out the window, pleasantly surprised to see them. “What are you guys doing here? Where’s the rest of the party?”
The girls wave at you and giggle, and you realize now that you’ve never actually seen them alone together before. Normally they’re with Lucas or MIke, so it’s a bit jarring to see them getting along so well without the boys. Jarring, but also very lovely.
“We don’t need those idiots.” Max responds, which makes El giggle even more.
Steve whistles, impressed by Max’s bluntness, and hands them their ice cream. They begin to eat the treat before a thought occurs to him. “Wait a second, are you even allowed to be here?”
You walk through the breakroom and come out the main doors to join Steve at the register. While you’re happy to see Max and El getting along, Steve has a point. Why is El here in such a public space? When you had asked Hopper last month if you could take El to Steve’s graduation, it had taken a whole debate and a fresh batch of cookies in order to convince the old man to let her come.
El is still technically forbidden from being seen in public, and yet here she is: running around Starcourt with Max.
You put your hands on the counter and lean towards the girls. They take a few steps back, now knowing that you’re onto them. “Max, El, what are you up to?”
Their eyes widen while you narrow yours, daring them to lie. Then, quickly glancing at one another, they turn around and run out of Scoops Ahoy, leaving you alone with Steve. You both stand there, dumbfounded.
“I thought I only ever had to worry about the boys.” You whisper, horrified. “The girls were supposed to be the ones I could trust.”
Steve rubs your shoulders and kisses your cheek. “You’re gonna go after them, aren’t you?”
You drop your head and sigh. “Yeah, I am.”
“I’ll tell Robin you had a babysitting emergency.” He presses a kiss to your neck now, which you shiver at, before gently shoving you out from behind the counter. “Good luck, angel.”
Steve’s kisses give you the energy you need to run after Max and El. They’re surprisingly fast as they giggle and trade ice cream cones to share. You call after them as you dodge random people in the mall, but your calls are in vain. They ignore you and continue to skip happily away from you.
“Guys!” When you finally catch up to them, they’re outside standing in front of the bike rack. “Why are you in front of the bikes–oh.”
You see Mike, Lucas, and Will unlocking their bikes from the rack as they bicker over something. Faintly you hear Mike and Lucas arguing about splitting money while Will is silent.
There’s a tension between the girls and boys that you now take note of. Normally El would have already been wrapped around Mike’s arms, but she remains by your side as Max approaches the boys. “Well, isn’t this a nice surprise?”
When Mike sees El, he drops his bike in shock. “What are you doing here?”
“Shopping.” El says as she glares at the boy.
You’ve never seen her so cold towards someone. It’s kind of frightening, honestly. “Oh, Wheeler, what did you do?”
“What did I do? No, what did you do? You’re the one who is letting her walk around Starcourt where everyone can see her!” Mike shrieks, always finding ways to blame you for his own problems.
You scoff. “Hey, I’ve only known about this for like, a second longer than you have.”
“Sure, likely story.”
“Have you ever considered not pissing off your girlfriend?”
“Have you ever considered getting a better boyfriend than Harrington?”
“Okay–”
Max steps in between you and Mike, annoyed. “Both of you shut up!” She waves her hand over El’s outfit and tries to turn the conversation around. “This is El’s new style. What do you think?”
“I think she looks nice–”
Mike cuts you off. “What’s wrong with you? You know she’s not allowed to be here.”
“What is she, your little pet?”
El clenches her jaw. “Yeah. Am I your pet?”
“What? No!” Mike denies, equally as confused as you are.
You’re not quite sure how you ended up in this situation.
“Then why do you treat me like garbage?” El questions the boy.
You frown at this and subtly step towards Lucas, desperately hoping for some clarification. “Did I miss something?”
“It’s a long story.” He sighs, and you now realize that Max must be angry with him, too.
El continues to interrogate Mike, and you almost feel bad for the boy. “You said Nana was sick.”
“She is! She is sick.” Mike lies through his teeth. You think about what Hopper told you earlier, how he had said some things to get Mike away from El, and you suppose now that it had involved some type of lie about the kid’s grandma.
Then Mike shoves at Lucas to get him to play along as well. Reluctantly he echoes his friend, though you know he’s aware that he’s only making this worse for himself. “She’s super sick, that’s why we’re here, actually.”
Mike is quick to follow along. “Yeah, we’re shopping! Not for us, but for her, for Nana.”
You catch Will’s eyes, who has remained silent this entire time, and he shakes his head at you in disappointment. You look back at Mike and Lucas now, unamused. “Nana isn’t sick, is she?”
“She is! But…” Mike fumbles over his words now. “We’re also here to get a gift for El. We just–we couldn’t find anything that suited her and I only have like, $3.50, so it’s hard.”
“It’s expensive… Had we known you were at the mall we would’ve asked you for money.” Lucas mumbles, which you flick his forehead at. “Ow, Y/N!”
El looks between Lucas and Mike, her eyes showing her hurt. “You lie.” When neither boy says anything, her hurt only grows and her voice wavers with tears. “Why do you lie?”
Again, El’s words are met with silence. Mike looks down, too ashamed to meet her eyes, and you shift uncomfortably, feeling even worse for the kid. You hadn’t expected to witness an awkward relationship feud today, and it wasn’t all entirely his fault. You know that Hopper played a role in this.
Later, when you have the time, you’re definitely going to yell at the police chief about this.
As the silence drags on, the local bus that drives everyone in Hawkins to Starcourt now arrives in the parking lot. Hearing its brakes hiss, El looks behind her and seems to make up her mind about something. Her face is stony as she approaches Mike and her words are laced with venom. “I dump your ass.”
You and Max gasp, though yours is more from shock and Max is more from being impressed.
Mike’s face falls and El whips around and begins walking towards the bus. Max follows, waving goodbye to you, and you’re left to deal with the unfortunate outcome of this bizarre situation.
Laughing nervously, you awkwardly pat Mike’s back. “You’ll… Uh, fix this, right?”
Mike slaps your hand away and marches back towards his bike. His shoulders droop and he looks tired from all he’s had to deal with today. Lucas doesn’t look any better and silently follows after his friend. Will is the only one who remains, and he drops his head to your chest and groans. “I just wanted to play DnD today.”
“I know, little bee.” You scratch his head and try to console him. “But sometimes life gets in the way. Right now Mike and Lucas need you, do you think you could help them?”
Will looks up at you. “I don’t know… Maybe, I guess.”
“Do what you can,” you kiss his forehead, wishing you could do more for him. All he’s wanted to do all summer is be a kid again, but his peers are growing older and leaving him behind. It isn’t anyone’s fault. “I gotta go, buddy. But I promise you and I will do something this week, just the two of us, okay?”
He nods, content with this, and you ruffle his hair before heading back inside to Scoops.
Hours later, you, Steve, Dustin, and Robin all uncover the rest of the Russian code.
You stand with your back against Steve’s chest as he has his arms draped loosely over you. Robin and Dustin stand to your left as you all face the whiteboard that has the message written on it, reading it out loud.
“‘The week is long. The silver cat feeds when blue meets yellow in the west’.”
There’s a pause as you all take in the bizarre message. You’re extremely doubtful that it’s right. The order of the words is too abstract to possibly be purposeful. It just doesn’t make any sense.
“Are we sure this is right?” You ask the group, knowing no one else will utter the doubt that settles over the room. Steve tightens his arms around you and shrugs.
“It has to be.” Dustin mumbles, though even he looks unsure.
Robin sighs. “Well, whether or not we’re right, dingus and I have to close up shop.”
Steve groans but reluctantly lets go of you so that he can help Robin with closing. While the two teens wash the ice cream scoopers and put away the remaining ice cream, you sit with Dustin at one of the booths.
“Maybe it’s a code?”
“Dustin, we just translated a foreign language. Thinking it’s a code seems like a cop-out, honestly.” You rest your head in your hands and watch Steve count the money in the register. Feeling your eyes on him, he looks up and winks at you. Blushing, you look back at your brother. “We probably just translated it wrong.”
“My ears are right! We didn’t translate anything wrong!” Robin shouts from across the store.
Dustin perks up. “See? We have to assume we’re onto something.”
You bite your lip, still unsure, but leave the topic alone for now. There’s no point arguing with Dustin and Robin because it’s not like any of you can just ask a native Russian speaker who is correct. If it somehow ends up being a hidden code, then you’ll apologize to Robin’s ears later.
It’s quiet in the parlor after that, but when Steve and Robin have finished closing and he pulls the gate down to lock up the store before you all go home, Steve can’t help but bring the subject up again. “I mean–it’s just, it can’t be right.”
“It’s right.” Robin affirms once more, and Dustin nods at her appreciatively.
“Honesty, I think it’s great news.”
Steve walks next to you as the four of you slowly head towards the mall’s exit. It’s late, you’re tired from your long day of translating the Russian language, and you’re ready to go to bed. Then, as if somehow knowing the exhaustion that weighs upon you, you feel Steve slip his hand into yours. His fingers are warm and the touch soothes you as he gently guides the two of you.
“How is this great news?” Steve asks your brother. “I mean, so much for being American heroes. It’s total nonsense.”
“The goal isn’t to be American heroes, dummy.” You chide, tugging at your hands to make sure he looks at you and listens. “We aren’t still going to follow this, are we?”
Dustin rolls his eyes at you both. “It’s not nonsense, it’s too specific and obviously a code. And yes we’re going to keep following this. We’re onto something, I can feel it!”
“All I feel right now is a crippling migraine forming,” you groan, rubbing at your temples.
Steve kisses your head in concern, feeling bad that he’s kept you out so late. However, he also really, really would love to become someone important. Someone worthy of his dad’s favor, so he follows after Dustin, curious despite it all. “What do you mean a code?”
“Like a super secret spy code.”
“That’s a total stretch.”
You snort. “That’s what I said, but no. Why should we ever listen to Y/N? It’s not like she’s always right in the end.”
Robin winces, afraid to annoy you further, but she can’t help but agree with Dustin. “I don’t know, is it really a stretch?”
“No, please don’t tell me you believe my brother.” You’re betrayed, hurt even, that Robin would succumb to Dustin’s fantasies.
Normally you’re all for believing your brother, but Russians in Hawkins leaving a hidden code in a radio frequency that can be accessed by the public? You may have fought alternate dimension monsters and you may know a girl with mind control powers, but even this feels far fetched.
“Listen, just for kicks, let’s entertain the possibility that it is a secret Russian transmission. What’d you think they were gonna say, ‘fire the warhead at noon’?” Robin raises her eyebrows at you.
“Well… no.” You slump your shoulders, knowing that she has a point. “But–”
“Just admit we’re right, Y/N.” Dustin says, annoyed.
Robin turns to you and almost groans when she sees your hand intertwined with Steve’s. Her voice falters for a moment at the sight, but she clears her throat and carries on with the conversation. “And my translation is correct. I know that for sure, so… ‘the silver cat feeds’. Why would anyone talk like that unless they’re trying to mask the meaning of their message?”
Dustin is next to her now, hanging onto her every word as you and Steve lag behind. “Exactly!”
“It is a weird phrase,” you mumble under your breath, and Steve can’t help but chuckle at how endearing you are when you try to play the reasonable role. It’s never any use, you’re everything that hope and optimism embodies; it’s adorable.
Robin sees that you’re close to giving in and begins to ramble now. “Why would anyone mask the true meaning of their message unless the message was somehow sensitive?” Again Dustin agrees with everything she says and Steve shrugs his shoulders while all you do is sigh in defeat. Looking at your brother, Robin concludes, “Guess that confirms your suspicions.”
“Evil Russians.”
“Okay, no.” You step between them now. “What if they’re just, like, really shy Russians who want some privacy? Why do we always jump to the evil conclusion?”
Dustin shoulders you to get you to shut up, and you shove him back, starting a small spat between the two of you. He hits your shoulder, you hit his stomach, and Steve watches with amusement while Robin stares in horror.
“Do we stop them?” She asks the teen.
Steve shakes his head. “I’ve learned that it’s best to just let them fight it out. It’s been a month, they’re behind on their fist fighting schedule.”
“I heard that!” You quickly say to him before yanking Dustin’s shirt to get him off of your back.
Seeing your struggle, Robin forces your brother off of you and holds him by his arms so that he doesn’t jump on you again. Dustin complains, but quickly shuts up at what Robin says. “Focus! I’m trying to tell you that I agree with you, this is totally evil Russians.”
Dustin stops struggling against her, now elated at the idea of defeating evil foreigners. “So how do we crack it?”
You were scared that Robin and Dustin wouldn’t get along, but as you watch them bounce schemes off of one another and plan an evil Russian take down, you’re now terrified of the friendship brewing between them. It’s worse than Steve with Dustin; Robin is just as cunning as your brother is.
She thinks for a moment. “I guess we translate the rest and hopefully a pattern emerges.”
“Have we ever considered a game plan for after poking our noses where they don’t belong?” Dustin and Robin both glare at you and you hold your hands up in surrender. “Hey, I’m just saying.”
“Ignore her, Robin. She likes to pretend she’s the rational one in these types of situations.” Dustin whispers to her, which you roll your eyes at. Steve kisses your cheek as a way to console you as your brother continues to speak. “Anyways, maybe the ‘silver cat’ is a meeting place?”
“Or a person.” Robin theorizes.
“Or a weapon.”
As the two of them come up with insane theories about what the code could mean, you notice that Steve is no longer by your side. Turning around, you find him stopped at one of the carousel horses meant for little kids. He’s bent over it, examining it. You frown, unsure what he’s doing, and walk over to him.
Resting a hand against his back, you lean down next to him. “Can I ask what we’re looking at here, honey?” He’s mumbling under his breath and digging through his pockets for something. Now you’re starting to get concerned. “Steve?”
“I need–do you have a quarter?”
“No?” You’re even more concerned now. Placing the back of your hand against his forehead, you check his temperature. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Sure you’re tall enough for that ride?” Robin quips as she and Dustin now join.
“Quarter!” Steve demands, nearly falling over as he tries to catch the one that she tosses him. When he catches it he quickly pushes the coin into the machine’s slot, bringing it to life. Music begins to play as the horse moves back and forth. It’s ominous, almost, in the mall’s dim lighting with no one else around.
Steve listens intently to the music, his face concentrated as if trying to understand something. As the music continues to play, you can’t help but feel that it sounds familiar. It reminds you of something, maybe a distant memory that you can’t quite recall. Wanting to understand more, you lean in close to the machine as well and mirror Steve’s actions. “The music…”
“They’ve both lost it,” Dustin mumbles when he sees that you’re also now analyzing a stupid carousel horse.
“Y/N, you helping little Stevie up onto the ride?” Robin laughs at her own joke, but you swat at her to shush her.
As the song plays once more, it finally clicks. Your mind flashes back to your conversation with him earlier in the break room as you kept replaying the Russian recording over and over again. It’s the same song. With a gasp, you throw your arms around Steve’s neck and begin kissing his face over and over again. “You’re a genius!”
Steve leans into your kisses and smiles at the praise, relieved that you don’t think he’s some idiot. Though his heart is beating wildly, he clears his throat and shrugs as if it isn’t a big deal. “I have my moments.”
“Care to share with the class, dinguses?”
Robin’s voice startles you, having momentarily forgotten where you were. Blushing, you pull away from Steve and clear your throat as well and act as if you weren’t just drowning the boy in kisses. “Listen to the song, guys.”
The seriousness of your tone causes Dustin to finally listen to the music as well. It only takes him a few seconds to piece together what you and Steve already have. “Holy shit. The music.”
“The music.” You confirm with pride, still incredibly amazed that Steve managed to remember such a small yet crucial detail. Since coming to befriend him, you’ve come to admire just how perceptive he is. Sure, he may not be a math whiz, but his emotional and creative intelligence leaves you in awe every time you see it. He’s smarter than anyone gives him credit for.
You wish his father saw this intelligence within him. Honestly, you wish more people did.
Dustin yanks his backpack off of his shoulder and starts rustling through it as he searches for something. When he finds his tape recorder, he starts to play the Russian transmission again. Hearing the audio and carousel play simultaneously side by side, it only confirms what Steve has long since figured out: it’s the same song.
Not being able to help yourself, you again kiss Steve’s cheek, giddy and proud of him. “You’re brilliant.”
He preens while Robin scrunches her nose, unsure why you’re all over the guy because of some song. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s the exact same song on the recording.” Dustin explains to her.
“Maybe they have horses like this in Russia?”
You nod at her. “Maybe? We should look into who produces these machines, it could be our new lead.”
Steve shakes his head. “‘Indiana Flyer’? I don’t… I don’t think so.”
Something seems to shift within his voice and his face now twists with slight fear. He looks as if he’s realized something awful, and you feel your own joy from earlier vanish. A chill runs through you, the same awful feeling of dread that once overwhelmed you when Will originally disappeared now courses through you again.
“What is it?” You softly ask Steve, already bracing yourself for the worst.
He frowns at the apprehension in your voice and the worried crease between his brows makes you want to smooth away the concern. You know he doesn’t want to scare you, that he’s always trying to make things easier for you, so you tilt your head at him and nod slightly; you want him to tell you. Seeing your unspoken permission, he sighs. “This code, it… didn’t come from Russia. It came from here.”
You, Robin, and Dustin all look at one another. Fear settles over the group, you can feel its heavy weight like an old, familiar friend.
“Why does everything happen in Hawkins?” You say to no one in particular, still trying to process what this all means.
Dustin sighs and Steve drops his head.
Somehow, you always end up here.
Steve offers to drive you and Dustin home after seeing how shaken up you are by the latest Russian revelation. Tired and exhausted and terrified as usual, you accept.
It takes some trial and error, but eventually he and your brother manage to fit your bikes in the back of the BMW.
The drive to your house is filled with awkward banter between Steve and Dustin. You sit quietly in the passenger seat as the two boys try to make light of the situation, but not even their jokes can lessen the fear that creeps into the car; none of you are sure what to make of all of this.
When Steve pulls up to your house, all that you’ve managed to do the entire car ride is make a mental note to call Jonathan about everything later. It’s not your best plan, you wish that there was more you could do, but at the very least you know that he and Nancy can help.
Dustin scrambles out of the car, desperate to escape the tension within it. “See you tomorrow, Steve!” He calls behind him before slamming the car door shut.
You snort softly at your brother, finally moving to unbuckle your own seatbelt, before Steve places his hand on yours and stops you. He’s noticed how quiet you’ve been the entire car ride and the way your eyes have clouded over with fear. He hates it. “Do me a favor?”
“Yes?” You blink at him, unsure what he could want at this hour. It’s late and your mom expects you home soon.
“Leave your window unlocked for me.” He winks at you, trying to play coy, but you see the genuine concern for you hidden beneath his actions.
You can’t help but smile; it feels as if you can breathe again. “Steve Harrington, why should I leave my window unlocked for you?”
Your smile sends a warmth through Steve’s chest as relief washes over him. He’s doing something right. He’s gotten you to smile. “Because I’m planning on sneaking in after I park my car a few blocks down so your mom won’t see me.”
Though you know what he had been implying, hearing him say the words out loud causes a wild blush to burn across your cheeks and your stomach to swoop. Steve has never done this before, sneaking into your room like some lovestruck teenager late at night, it’s been the one boundary neither of you have crossed before.
“I suppose I can do that.” You say with an air of indifference, which Steve rolls his eyes at. “Strictly friendly, of course.”
“Oh, of course.”
You giggle, finally unbuckling your seatbelt, and you exit the car after kissing the boy’s cheek. His face is warm against your lips and you’re coming to memorize the way your nose presses against the indent of his cheek bones.
When you get inside, your mom is knitting on the couch while Tews sits in her lap. She greets you with a smile and you compliment the scarf she’s making. “I’m sure it’ll be perfect for this winter, mom.”
She thanks you and wishes you a good night, noticing the bags underneath your eyes with slight concern. Inside your room, you quickly clear away the scattered pieces of paper on your desk and arrange your bedding so that it isn't strewn across the room. Steve has been in your room a million times now, and yet you can’t help but feel like tonight is different for some reason.
True to his word, within ten minutes Steve is knocking on your window. Hearing the quiet way his knuckles rap against the glass makes your heart jump in your stomach. Your body practically buzzes as you go to open the window, eager to have him close to you.
“Took you long enough,” you tease, opening the window wide enough for him to crawl through.
Steve pulls himself up with ease, his biceps strain against his Scoops Ahoy uniform, and you’ve never been more thankful for corporate policy. “Sorry, angel. Came here as fast as I could.”
You tug at his shirt and the two of you are falling into your bed. He lands on you with a soft thud and your body has long since become accustomed to his weight. As his body settles upon yours, it feels like coming home. You exhale deeply, wrapping your arms around his body, and Steve nuzzles his face into your neck and presses a gentle kiss there.
Everything swirling violently within your head now stills. The constant onslaught of worries and doubts finally quiets, and you know that despite it all, at least you have Steve.
“We’ll figure it out, ya know.” Steve’s lips move against the skin of your neck as he speaks, making you shiver slightly at the sensation.
“I know,” you start to play with his hair, needing something to do with your hands as you speak. “But… How many times are we going to keep doing this? Be the only people in Hawkins aware of what’s going on?”
Steve is silent for a few moments, allowing your words to sink in. He rolls them around in his head, he knows that the question isn’t one that comes from doubt of what he and the others are capable of. You don’t lack faith, you lack the willingness to constantly place the ones you love at risk. It just isn’t in your nature.
“As many times as needed.” He pauses again, unsure how to express to you his certainty that you’re capable of so much with all the love within you. If there’s anyone in this shitty town who is a real American hero, it’s you. “I mean, after everything we’ve been through these last two years, measly Russians are no big deal. We’ve fought worse monsters than Communism.”
You laugh, he always somehow gets you to laugh, and the sound is as angelic to Steve as your eyes are to him. He tightens his arms around you and relishes in the way your body presses against his, how he can feel your body move with every inhale of your laugh.
Then, slowly, your laughter dies down. Reality settles upon you once more and you want to believe Steve, you do, and you try to reassure yourself that he’s right… but something feels off about this. You can’t exactly articulate what it is, but there's this haze of uncertainty that you’ve never quite felt before; a vulnerability that leaves you feeling cold in his arms.
Sensing your fear rising up again, Steve tries to distract you by changing the subject. “Speaking of monsters, I recruited the little heathens to help with your birthday gift.”
The change of subject works. You raise your head and look at the teen. “You mean the party? You got them to help with a gift for me?”
“Don’t sound so surprised, Y/N.” Steve butts his head against your chin playfull. “I can make them listen to me… sometimes.”
You stare at him, knowing he’s full of shit. “Go on, tell me all about how you got them to listen to you.”
He tries to hold your gaze, refusing to back down, but he cracks after only a few seconds. “Okay, fine. It took a lot of pleading and I now owe a bunch of pre-teens money.”
A loud, full body laugh escapes your lips, and Steve laughs with you. The two of you hold one another and feel each other laugh, chests rising with glee. For a moment you feel okay again, forgetting everything else for now. You’re carefree in this moment, feeling like a little kid again, something only Steve can do to you.
When your laughs die down, you and Steve quietly lay together. No other words manage to find their way in the dark of your room, all that needs to be said has been laid to rest. His warm breaths hit the base of your neck as your nails scratch against his scalp. While you feel safe in his arms, there’s still so much that needs to be said.
Staring at the ceiling of your room, you see faint threads and strings and lines that you thought you put to rest that night in Jonathan’s room this winter. Now, they’re back again, only this time it’s a different boy within your arms. Something akin to doubt creeps in.
Steve already has all of you, you told him you’d wait, but what if you’ve missed your chance again with him like you did with Jonathan? When June began, Steve promised that you had all summer together. He calls you angel and tells you stories to fall asleep to on the phone, and yet the threads that glow above you taunt you.
You love him, you do, but you’re terrified that whatever the two of you uncover with the Russians will somehow pry you apart.
Just like Will’s disappearance had pried Jonathan away from you two years ago.
July looms over you and summer is going by faster than you thought it would. The promise of summer, one that usually leaves the nostalgic taste of honey on your tongue, now threatens to choke you.
As if having a mind of their own, your arms tighten even more around Steve, almost as if somehow you can shield what the two of you have from the dangers within Hawkins.
You hope it’s enough.
-
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prythianpages · 9 months
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Ohhhh would you ever write more about the witch reader x az. I loved it! I want to see feyres reaction :)
I might! I think I'd be open to making it like a series/au bc witch reader x Az makes me so soft 🥰 and I'm currently obsessed with the song that inspired it bc the song is so beautiful and whimsical and makes me wish I could experience a love like that
if you haven't read the original imagine, you can find it here.
here is a small drabble of feyre's reaction 😊 :
When you and Azriel return to the river house, Feyre is in the sitting room. She's lightly bouncing an agitated Nyx, who teethes at a cool wash cloth. "I know, baby," she coos at the infant.
Her blue-gray eyes are on you as soon as you enter and they light up when she notices Azriel's hands are ungloved and one of them is holding on to yours, fingers intertwined with another.
"How was the trip?" She asks, her lips curling up into a knowing smile.
"It was fine."
"She almost cursed Eris."
You're turning to Azriel with a playful glare and his wings twitch in response, his usual stoic demeanor now much lighter and Feyre knows it's all because of you. "It could've been a nice little hex that'd make his eyebrows fall off, you know. Just something to get him off his high horse."
Feyre laughs at the image that comes to mind. "I hope Eris didn't give you much trouble?"
"He shot an arrow through Azriel's hand."
"No."
You and Azriel exchange another look, missing the way Feyre's eyes grew distant for a brief moment.
**
They're holding hands! Feyre nearly screams into Rhysand's mind and he can feel all her excitement and joy through the bond.
He's sitting outside by one of the tables in their garden with Cassian and Mor on either side of him. If it were up to him, he'd be inside by his wife. But it was her who had kicked him outside, not wanting to overwhelm Azriel and you. "Out you busybodies!" She had exclaimed as she ushered them all out of the house.
"Hey, Cas," he grins. "You owe me twenty coins."
Cassian nearly spits out his lemonade. "What?" He sputters with wide eyes. Mor leans forward in her seat.
Rhysand then shows them the image Feyre had send him. It's of you and Azriel bickering and fussing over one another like an old married couple.
"Let's just call it even." Cassian insists, setting his cup down. "I am the one who got rid of all the dandelion root from her apothecary shop."
"Hey! Don't take all the credit. I am the one who kept her distracted!" Mor cuts in, dramatically throwing her hands in the air. "And also the one who kept Azriel from suspecting anything when Feyre had asked for an escort. Do you know how hard it is to sneak things around those two?"
"Thank you, Mor. Your hard work is much appreciated here," Rhysand says, his grin growing wider as he rises from his seat, knowing it'd only irritate Cassian further.
He catches the glare Cassian sends his way. "20 coins," Rhysand reminds him, holding his hand out expectantly.
"In a way," Cassian begins, not wanting to accept his loss. "I helped you win the bet!"
"That's not my problem." Rhysand replies with a smug shrug.
Cassian grumbles and digs into his pocket. He throws all twenty coins at Rhysand's face, who easily intercepts them with a wave of his hand. They fall gracefully into the palm of his hand instead.
Mor laughs as she also rises from her seat. Twenty coins is nothing to them. It's barely enough to buy a cheap bottle of wine.
Cassian follows shortly after, the three of them scurrying inside and wanting to catch a glimpse of you and Azriel holding hands in person. Although, they find you nestled on the couch with baby Nyx in your lap. You rub the elixir you had made earlier over Nyx's gums, smiling when you feel the babe relax in your arms, as you tell Feyre all about your venture earlier.
Azriel is seated on the armest of the couch right next to you, cutting into your story when he deems necessary. Everyone takes note of the way his hand is resting on the small of your back and one of his wings instinctively curls around your smaller form. They also take note of the lingering scent of your bond in the air, stronger now that you both have acknowledged the bond. Cedar and lavender.
**
a/n: I considered the whole Nyx being in pain to be a lie, a glamor made by Feyre to trick reader into having to go scavenge for dandelion root but decided it was better to just have Cassian and Mor be sneaky instead :)
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life-as-gwen · 5 months
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What do Dandelions know that I don’t?
Let’s talk about dandelions, Taraxacum Officinale. My favorite flower since I was a small child. The flower that nobody liked. As a kid, I loved seeing them growing in the grass, it was so pretty, the bright yellow on the green lawn. I especially loved it when the grass was full of them. I could not understand why people were always trying to kill them.
This was a flower I was allowed to pick, make bouquets with and collect. I remember picking them in the front yard to “save them” from my Dad. The good intention was there anyways.
As an adult, I still like them. I still think they are pretty. But I am a little more philosophical about it. Not that I don’t pick a bouquet when I have the chance.
Think about the dandelion. This is a flower that yearns to live and grow. “Damn hard to get rid of” as my Dad would say. We dig them out by the roots or poison them, and still they come back, spotting the grass with little yellow blooms. We put cinder blocks over them to make a sidewalk and they will pop up in the cracks. It’s like they don’t know, or don’t care that they are under attack. They are just doing their thing.
When it is time for them to die, there is no ugliness, no hard pieces to hurt your feet when you walk barefoot on the lawn. They just change to a white, soft puff ball, and when the wind is just right, their seeds and their DNA are blown up in the air. Wherever they land, a new flower will grow.
What if we had even some of these qualities? What if, in a world that thought we were ugly and unwanted, we could see our own beauty? What if we had the strength to stand up and come back from our defeats, as beautiful and strong as we were before? What if obstacles in our path were simply things we needed to either go around, or go through? What if when we were old and done, we sat at peace, knowing that our lives had meant something and we were leaving a legacy?
I believe that in recovery we have a responsibility to keep learning. The knowledge we get from sources such as AA, NA, OA, Smart Recovery, counselling, therapy, social media, podcasts etc., is invaluable. We would not make it without these resources. But sometimes can we learn lessons and be inspired by the simple things right in front of us, like a silly little flower? from flowers that have been there all along?
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flowerishness · 2 months
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Sonchus arvensis (perennial sow-thistle)
Round-up
A perennial sow-thistle enjoys a sunny day at the beach. This plant is native to Eurasia but is often described (by farmers) as a noxious, invasive weed, and is now 'naturalized' throughout North America, South America, Russia, New Zealand and Australia. Like it's relative the dandelion, it arrived from Europe during the Age of Exploration and it's probably been growing in North America for five hundred years. I have no doubt that the first seeds arrived on someone's muddy boot.
The Minnesota Wildflowers website reports, "This species is a rapid colonizer from deep, extensive underground root systems. Once listed as a Minnesota state noxious weed, it is now widely established throughout the state but is not as problematic agronomically as was once thought. Round-up Ready crops took care of much of the problem." '
Round-up (2,4-d) is a powerful broad-spectrum herbicide used extensively in modern agriculture. Round-up Ready crops include soy, corn, canola, alfalfa, sugar beets and cotton and Round-up resistant wheat is under development. Round-up has been extensively tested and under normal concentrations it is not considered injurious to human health but this research is controversial and many lawsuits are pending. In 2023, 91% of the corn, 95% of soybeans, and 94% of cotton produced in the United States were from genetically modified, herbicide-resistant strains. For everybody's sake, I hope these safety studies are correct.
A final note: as a gardener you are advised to wear long pants, a long sleeved shirt, gloves, goggles and a mask when applying Round-up, not that anybody does. Personally, I never use the stuff. I get rid of weeds the old-fashioned way - I use my hands.
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tahyal · 11 months
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Any tips for smelling good, getting rid of body odour naturally?
- Dandelion root tea, Clove tea, Spearmint tea
- Warm water in the morning
- Make sure your gut is healthy and you’re eliminating toxins properly ie regular bowel movements, sweating, and drink enough water to keep your kidneys in good shape
- Weekly armpit detoxes : Rhassoul clay and ACV, let it sit till it dries and rinse it out. You can add turmeric to it to add a brightening effect
- Eat fruits!
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adsosfraser · 1 year
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turn into dust
everlark one shot, set between the hunger games and catching fire
peeta helps take care of katniss when she arrives at his door one afternoon
wc: 1766
My hands roughly knead the dough on my kitchen island. I can’t stop the shaking in my arms as I repeat the motions that are etched into the very memory of my muscles. Each thwack I aim towards the pliable dough fails to banish the images echoing through my mind. They’ve been sitting there, waiting with a grin to see the final moment I’ll be sent over the edge.
Her grey eyes pierce straight through my chest, like the deadly sharp edges of one of her arrows. Just as my hands are an extension of myself, her bow is part of her very spirit as well. But her fierce eyes drown in the mist surrounding her; it’s choking her essence and scattering it into nothing. Cato grins madly as his hands turn her into crumbling dust the same colour of her eyes. My hands reach for her, desperate beyond belief. Life without my songbird is unthinkable. I punch the dough hard, and watch as my hand flies straight through the boy from District 2. I gasp, ridding myself of the nightmare that still crawls beneath my skin, demanding my undivided attention.
At the knock at the door, my head whips from my abused and sad-looking dough to the front of my house. I can’t see anything through the thick half-circle set in the sturdy oak door except for the slight shadow of movement. My brows pull together in confusion as I grab the hand towel strung up by the oven and wipe down the sweat from my forehead and flake off pieces of dough into the sink. The pieces rooted deep underneath the beds of my fingernails are a lost cause and I don’t bother as the knocking becomes more insistent.
I never get visitors. And none nearly this frantic in demanding I show my presence.
Well, except Prim. But I know she and her mother will be gone for a long while attending a birth in the Seam. They’ll be back if at least not late at night tonight, then early tomorrow morning.
I pull the door open with a polite smile I force on my face and a pleasant “hello” on my lips. I’m sure none of these niceties matter with the state I’m in. Crazed eyes with deep purple skin sagging under them and nails chewed to the quick and sometimes even further than that from nerves and nightmares.
My heart drops at the girl in front of me. I take a gulp and stab my fingers into the flesh of my palms to determine if the sight is real or the start of another dream.
Is it really already noon? The sun high in the sky tells me yes. And she’s always back by now on Sundays after hunting with Gale.
Her grey eyes dart to every single inch of the inside of my house they can see. They land on the vase full of dandelions on a side table near the entrance, then the towel flung across my shoulder, my hands, the clock above my head, and the rug under my bare feet. Foot.
She chews her lip, which already seems to have bled from the habit.
Finally, her eyes dart to mine and hold steady. I let out a sharp breath as my heart thuds faster and faster, like the wheels of the train as it began the start of its journey.
“Hi Katniss.” They’re the first words I’ve spoken to her in a month and three days.
Her eyes break our stare and dart back to my shoulder. Safe.
A dark shade of rose paints her cheeks and she worries her lip even more, pulling a successful strip of skin away.
“Um,” she pauses. “Hi.”
“Did you need anything Katniss?”
Her hands reach towards where her braid normally rests but pull away at its absence. The usual braid is unbound and wound up on top of her head into a clean towel. She’s in a fresh pair of her grey sleep shorts that reach midthigh and in a rich green tank top she normally uses as an undershirt. I’m surprised to even see the white sandals hugging her feet, somehow imagining her as a beautiful creature of the woods, barefoot with grass and flowers growing up underneath her. Reaching into the small pockets of the stretchy fabric of her shorts, she brings out a piece of metal smaller than her finger.
“Yes. Sorry Peeta.”
Her eyes are clear as they look back into mine. I push the hope that swells in my chest that she’s speaking about more than just the current situation, but her eyes express more.
“No need to apologise Katniss. I’m always happy to help.” You.
I grab the tweezers from her hand and move aside to let her into my house for the first time. Her wide eyes take in the foyer and the sturdy oak bones of the house. I guide her into the kitchen and brush her shoulder so she sits down on one of the stools at the counter.
She turns her back to me and shoves the tails of the towel from her back over her right shoulder. She tugs the back of her tank top down further to expose more of the skin on her back. I see it immediately and frown.
I want to burn it alive for harming even a hair on her body.
“It didn’t come off in the shower. Can you get it? I can’t reach it.”
The tick is embedded in the centre of her back between the bottom of her shoulder blades. I look closer. It doesn’t appear to have sunk onto her for long to be engorged by blood, but long enough that it clings to her. Maybe since she headed out into the woods this morning.
“Did Gale not want to help you?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t ask him.” She looks back at me; a sad look passes across her eyes. Now I feel bad bringing him up. She probably misses him and he just had other things to do today to provide for his family. They only truly have one day to be together. “Do you not want to?”
“Of course I do. I just thought your boyfriend would be your first choice to do this instead of walking all twenty yards to a different house.”
“He’s my friend.”
A silence fills the room, heavy with all that’s unsaid between us.
“Hold on just a moment.”
I limp with heavy footsteps to the bathroom on the first floor of the house. The prosthetic is helpful, but it still feels like hell to have the tender and still healing part of the end of my leg constantly pressing down and rubbing against it, and to be reminded of what I’ll never have again.
I putter around in the bathroom cabinets until I finally find where the first-aid bin is shoved into a far corner. I come back to Katniss looking at the small lump of dough on the counter, her fingers inches away from it. I smile at the thought of her being tempted to touch the soft and squishy piece of dough to feel what bread is like before it's touched by fire.
She doesn’t startle when I come up close to her back again. I know my clomping footsteps are like land mines to her, the girl who sprung from the forest. I reach around her shoulder to set the bin of first aid supplies on the counter and place the small bandage, antibiotic ointment, and alcohol wipes near it so they’re ready to use.
With the slow and steady hand that I reserve for painting the delicate details of the cakes at the bakery, I lean forward with the tweezers and squat so I’m eye level with the bastard that stuck itself to Katniss. In under five seconds, I have it squirming between the tweezers and plop it into a small empty jar. Some skin pulled off with it as well and I restrain myself from kissing the spot on her back.
I quickly disinfect the area with the alcohol and put a little dash of ointment on it, smearing it with my finger.
She sighs at my light touch. I feel her tremble but continue on with my task.
Next, I peel back the layers of the bandage and stick it to her skin as straight as possible so it doesn’t clump up and fall.
“Can I look through your hair for any more?”
She nods.
“Mmhmm.” Her voice shakes.
I wonder when the last time was when anyone showed her this kind of care.
She pulls apart the contraption on her head and lets her damp waves fall against her back. I carefully bring my hands up to comb through them. It’s silky and smooth with the trace of conditioner still in her hair. It calms me in a way and I can tell she also enjoys the way I lightly scrape through her scalp with the pads of my fingers when her head tilts back closer to me with relaxed eyes.
“If you want, I can bring over some of the cheese buns I’m making. I saw you looking at the dough earlier.”
Her eyes open to look back at me upside down. I continue to look at her hairline and move strands of hair this way and that to get a better view.
“Cheese buns?”
“Yeah, they’re delicious. I’m sure you’ll love them too.”
“Okay.” She nods, closing her eyes again so I can continue.
A soft moan escapes her and my hands softly brush back the hair by her right ear to check for any ticks behind it. It doesn’t mean anything. She just needs a human touch. A friend. After everything she’s been through. And I was the closest warm body she could think of who wouldn’t deny her. I never would.
I lightly push her head forehead so I can check behind her neck as well and I’m glad that I see none. She frowns when I pull away. Sitting up straight, she clears her throat and brushes off her legs.
“You’re all good.”
Her eyes are watery as she squeezes my hand. “Thank you Peeta.”
With the lingering heat of her body and the smell of strawberries, vanilla, and sunshine from her soap, I light a match in the loneliness of my kitchen, her presence lingering long after she slipped away uncertainly back to her house. I watch the tick writhe and struggle under the heat to turn into dust.
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mrsemilybartrum · 4 months
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THEO THE DANDELION (written by me and inspired by Theo Usherwood of Sky News)
THE FOLLOWING IS MY ORIGINAL WORK FYI:
In a field by a stream reads a sign that says “WELCOME TO DANDELION MEADOW”.
Dandelions are welcomed here, in the Dandelion Meadow. Most every flower and plant is, unlike lawns and yards inside the city. Most lawns are sprayed with a chemical to get rid of dandelions.
The Dandelion Meadow is a bee sanctuary. No weed sprays are allowed!
This is a dandelion. This dandelion is named Theo. Say “Hi, Theo!”
Theo, like other dandelions, loves it when people come by the meadow and play. Theo loves watching all the people, animals, and other plants getting along together in the meadow.
Theo watches a little girl pick another fellow dandelion out of the meadow. She runs off with the dandelion. Theo listens for the girl, but Theo can no longer hear the little girl laughing.
Theo cannot wait to be picked. He cannot wait to make someone that happy. Being picked is one of the highest honors for a dandelion. Getting picked and given away is even better, Theo thought. He couldn’t think of anything better than that.
He knew his time would soon come. His friend Candy the Dandelion was picked by a little boy just yesterday. The little boy plucked Candy and gave her to his grandmother.
His grandmother was so happy with Candy, she cried happy tears and gave the little boy a big, huge, bear hug to show her appreciation.
Way to go, Candy the Dandelion! Theo was proud of Candy.
Theo was proud of all his friends, dandelion or not. His friend Danny the Dandelion was plucked root and all up from the ground in the rain this morning.
A man and woman were walking together in the meadow when she remembered her dad was sick. Theo heard the woman tell the man that Danny would become a tea for her father.
Way to go, Danny the Dandelion! Theo was proud of Danny.
Theo was starting to feel jealous of all his dandelion friends like Danny and Candy. Theo’s friends were being plucked one right after the other, and he was not. Theo felt envy over all his friends leaving.
He didn’t like feeling this way, at all.
What made it worse was Theo was beginning to feel like he didn’t belong in the meadow. If nobody was going to pick him, why was Theo a flower?
Theo became sad and was ashamed of himself for feeling jealous of his friends. He began to wilt.
Then, his friend Tim the Thundercloud came by and saw Theo was wilting. He rained some rain on Theo’s leaves. He rained on the soil around his roots. He waited for Theo to perk up. Then, he asked Theo why he was so sad.
“I am sad because nobody will pick me,” Theo said to Tim the Thundercloud. Tim the Thundercloud reassured Theo and told him to relax.
“Theo, I like you. Relax and let it go. You are doing what you should be doing. That is enough.” Tim told Theo as he floated on by.
But Theo felt he wasn’t doing enough. Even if Tim the Thundercloud said otherwise.
Theo saw Miss Bee getting some pollen off Mr. Clover. Miss Bee flew by to tell Theo not to worry about getting picked.
“If it’s your purpose to be picked, you will be picked when it is your time. Your time and place will happen when it’s the right time and place. Relax!” Miss Bee said to Theo.
Theo was confused, so he waited until Miss Bee flew off to ask Mr. Clover what Miss Bee meant. He wanted to ask Mr. Clover what a ‘purpose’ was, too.
“A purpose is what someone or something is meant to do. A purpose is what God made you for. It’s why you are what you are.” Mr. Clover replied.
“What is my purpose?” Theo asked Mr. Clover.
Mr. Clover told him all about how dandelions were used for several things. Some people picked them and gave them as flowers to loved ones because they’re pretty and bright. Others use dandelions for teas and food. Still yet, some use dandelions to make medicine and to help ailments.” Mr. Clover continued.
“Dandelions are used to open up the soil and allow air to come in. Without these long taproots, the soil would stay packed tight and no air could cycle through. The soil would die. Plus your big roots pulls up nutrients like calcium up from deeper down for plants like me. Sounds like to me that’s a pretty big purpose right there already.”
Mr. Clover sighed, and then he said, “Then, you could still have an even greater purpose. You could become the wish of a child one day. But only special dandelions can become wishes for children. Not any bright, yellow dandelion can do it.” Mr. Clover said.
Theo the Dandelion no longer felt bad. In a way, he was glad he never got picked. The sun rose and set, and the moon did the same several times over. Until one day, Theo no longer had petals. He was closed up.
Theo opened up with the sun the next morning, and he could feel all his petals were gone. He was nothing but seeds now. He felt like a whole new flower.
Mr. Clover, Miss Bee, and Tim the Thundercloud complemented Theo’s new seed wisps. He explained to them that as the wind blew, those seeds would become new dandelions. Theo told them that each dandelion could make 5000 more dandelions from those seeds.
Just then, a crying girl ran into the meadow. She was lost and looking for her mother. She ran to a log and sat down. Then, she saw Theo the Dandelion.
She got up and ran to pick him. Theo got plucked! She took a deep breath, and she exhaled. Theo’s seeds blew all over. The little girl made her wish.
She went back to sit on the log as she watched the rest of Theo’s seeds float on the wind throughout the meadow.
After a few moments, the little girl thought she heard something.
Her mother called her name, and the girl began to cry with joy.
Her wish was answered.
And so was Theo’s.
The End
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bonesandthebees · 5 months
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Oh balcony garden! That sounds really nice! Do keep in mind the weight. Place heavier plants and pots closer to the support beams and such. I don’t know what pots you have, but using plastic ones is best for a balcony garden.
And yeah, nature is good for us. Even if it’s just one plant! We don’t have that big of a garden (but we do have one) so whenever I need a break I for school work (or get rid of the urge to murder someone) I go and dig out some dandelions because you need to get those out all the way to the root or they keep growing back.
I have a friend who has a really big garden with lots of tree and well-placed hedges to block out all the houses. I once sat in that garden alone during late summer because xe needed to get something from the house and I’ve never felt such inner peace.
-🌲
oh we have a very sturdy balcony so we're not worried about the weight, but it's a good thing to keep in mind!
man I wish we had a garden I could dig weeds out of when I'm stressed. apartment living is rough :/ but yes nature is very good for us I love getting that mental boost from seeing gren
god that sounds so peaceful I want to be in that garden rn
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stars-and-wildfires · 5 months
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to kill off those memories / is to kill myself
and the memory of you is
rooted so far within me that they are
entangled within my own organs
like a weed, almost, one that id easily let
kill me
even if it hurt
if it just meant i got to be close to you
or, the ghost of you, now
it stains me with the memories of a time
long past, that only exists now
within my slow fading memory
if you were a dandelion plant
and i were allergic
i’d still plant you all around my house
some part of me wants to bury my hands in
the dirt, and tear out all of your
stupid roots
more of me than i’d admit
wants to take a lighter and just
burn all of it down to ashes and
nothing more
but even that pile of ashes will still be you
and no matter what i do
i can’t get rid of you
i can’t rid myself of you
to kill of those memories
is to kill myself
to kill off those memories
is to kill myself
to kill of those memories
is to kill myself
to kill off those memories
is to kill myself
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vpofcookies · 2 years
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Let’s talk Technoblade and flower symbolism!
(please note that these are the reasons that I use these specific flowers in my art for Technoblade, usually in reference to DSMP techno, so not all of the reasons are serious or symbolism-related :D)
(Part two here)
Dandelions
Not only do the common meanings of dandelions perfectly match Techno (faithfulness, hope, growth, and healing) but societal impressions of dandelions, to me, are a perfect reflection of Techno’s character and of his arc in the DSMP. I won't go much into faithfulness and healing, but I hope that those are evident from his friendship with Philza and the healing of each member of the Syndicate.
Loyal talks about Techno collecting dandelions (Here!), discussing both the symbolism of Techno growing in an adverse environment and collecting hard-to-kill flowers and the fact that Techno uses the dandelions for stew and for his bees.
I think Techno’s use of suspicious stew is often overlooked. A suspicious stew made with dandelions increases saturation. He didn’t choose to create regeneration effects using an oxeye daisy. Technoblade, who focuses on xenia, guest friendship, the laws of hospitality, and the policy of providing food and shelter to guests; Technoblade, who chose his retirement to avoid the conflict and violence of his past and was still hunted anyways, chooses saturation. The choice to rely on dandelions was intentional. It was a declaration, perhaps just to himself, that he was retired, that he would not need regeneration, that all he would need is to be able to provide the hospitality of a filling meal and to protect himself and his friends from hunger.
Now, let's talk about society and dandelions. Dandelions are considered by many to be a weed, an unkillable plant that spreads it's roots even after they try again and again to get rid of it. Sound familiar, anyone? But, like many "weeds," the reason that dandelions are seen as undesirable has roots in colonilization, where plants that were food sources to native and impoverished peoples were derided by colonizers and the upper class. The societal perception of these flowers is rooted in their usefulness to those that the figures in power wanted to eliminate.
Other than that connection to Technoblade's anti-government perspective, why am I connecting this to our favorite anarchist pig? Consider Technoblade's role throughout the dsmp, specifically the pogtopia arc. Technoblade provides armor, food, tools and materials. Then there is a shift in power and his 'usefulness' is up, as those in power no longer align with his goals and instead try to eliminate him. This shift in being recognized for usefulness to being forceably removed is due to a shift from the group in power, despite being the same as before.
I don't want to limit this analogy to usefulness, although the tendency of Techno to provide food and hospitality does lend itself to that. No, the main reasons that I connect Technoblade to dandelions is their resilience, their potential for growth, and the hope they represent.
Technoblade retires. Technoblade is executed. Even before this, it is evident that Technoblade needs healing. He has the air of a war veteran, is referenced to as the blade, is used, betrayed, and fights for his life. He says that there is no safety except isolation. And yet, he retires and throughout it all there is his friendship with Philza, his cabin in the arctic, his suspicious stew; pieces of evidence that he never gave up hope that he could heal without violence. Pieces of that undying determination that both he and dandelions are known for. Dandelions can grow on rocks, on hard packed soil, in drought conditions, but they prefer rich soil like any other plant. Technoblade grows his hope in hard conditions, fights to keep that hope, and finds a place where it can grow. He finds a place where he can grow, and learns along the way that maybe faithfulness is not a weakness, and maybe you can live and grow with others.
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leafie-draws · 1 year
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a fun-fact about dandelions is that their roots are op as fuck and can grow to be 15 feet long you're not getting rid of them buddy lmao
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audhdwitch · 1 year
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"hard work pays off" powder
DISCLAIMER: if you are allergic to bee pollen maybe don't do this? substitute with another substance that corresponds to hard work, diligent effort, etc.
materials:
your main ingredient is bee pollen (or substitute). feel the bee pollen (or substitute) amount with your heart.
1 tbsp basil (dried)
1 tbsp rosemary (dried)
like 1/8 tsp powdered ginger root
dried dandelion leaves. also feel this amount with your heart but in my experience a little goes a long way.
i was gonna add eggshell powder for an added layer of protection but i forgor :(
steps:
gather ingredients.
literally just throw it all into a mortar and pestle and do the thing until it's the desired texture. i actually don't currently own a mortar and pestle so i just. mashed it all up. in a glass tupperware. with the blunt end of a sturdy wooden spoon.
you can strain it if you want i guess? but i didn't.
put that shit in a jar. store it in a cool, dry place.
notes
this was originally conceptualized as a sweetening spell, with the primary ingredient having initially been honey. but i was worried about ants. and i just happened to have a fuckton of bee pollen i'd no idea what to do with but didn't want to just get rid of.
while bee pollen does have sweetening qualities, to me it has a stronger association with "hard work."
that said, this recipe could easily be altered to substitute the basil, rosemary and ginger root (prosperity, protection, and luck in a timely manner) for other herbs that amplify the sweetening qualities of the pollen.
this could probably also easily be adapted into an oil instead of a powder, but idk that much about magical oil-making yet.
btw the measurements are really rough estimates. just feel it with your heart, you know? for example i only added a bit of ginger root bc i only wanted a little bit of a "kick," but experiment to find out what feels good! remember, you can always add more.
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i dont know what i want. i think i mustve had a thousand diffrent career plans in my life. and now i can come up with one. in all truth id like to be able to sit in a little box from 9-5 to do the same math over and over and be paid lots of money for it. i dont even want an extravagant life. id genuinely be happy living in a small cottage one level, as long as it has a separate kitchen and bedroom  id be good. preferably by the sea. i always loved the sea. i liked just standing there and letting the waves move me further and further out. theyd push me backwards to the shore but at the same time draw me out even further. slowly slowly away. sometimes when I'd see a really big one coming id make believe that was a tsunami and it would take me far far away. I think that was a common theme in my make believe games as a child, - going far far away on my own to these fantastical worlds. Clearly, narnia and sparticle mysteries made a big impression. but now? now I find myself unwilling to leave. I'm like those dandelions in the garden, with roots so deep they dig into the concrete, into the very foundations of this house. not quite a flower, not quite a weed. It's ironic how enjoyable dandelions are when they are young, and we take great joy in blowing the seeds everywhere and then express annoyance as we get rid of them once they bloom. so often are they confused for different plants entirely, After all, how can something that brings so much joy grow up to be such an irritation? they are an acquired taste and I'll be the first to admit the leaves are weirdly misshapen.
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nagdabbit · 11 months
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sunday six
tagged by @blizzardsuplex 💜
tagging anyone and everyone reading this, tell em daggs sent ya
It didn't once matter how sweet the strawberries were, how thick the patch of chard, how bountiful the radishes and rutabagas, it was always the first dandelions of the year that he truly took pride in. A reminder of how far he'd come, and how much he'd done. That he'd done something almost magical, to his eyes. 
Resilient little things, with their deep roots and far-flung seeds. Hearty little things, terribly difficult to truly get rid of. Pretty little things, all the more beautiful for their ferocity. 
He liked to think Bryan would liken him to the tufts of sunshine-bright weeds. 
He could spit and growl all he liked, but Yuta, too, returned every spring with ever more seeds to spread and roots to set down. He'd stopped truly putting up a fight at Yuta's continued presence. Had done the moment Yuta had first sprinted into the library one day, late in the summer, with a fistful of dandelion greens and a miles-wide grin.
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