[20 MINUTES BEFORE YOU SLICE INTO IT? ABOUT 20 MINUTES, YEAH. ONE SCOOP? ONE SCOOP. MMM, THAT SMELLS GOOD. WE NEED A SLICE OF THAT. I GET THAT DRY RUB. NICE FLAVORS IN THAT. MMM, THAT'S NICE STUFF THERE.]
This came to me as I'm making dinner so I'll be quick.
What if we mix deaged Danny and twin/older sibling (either one works) Damian, AND he gets tossed to his sibling in a last minute escape.
Like what if he was fighting Vlad who was doing his whole "denounce your father and join me as my son Daniel!" Thing while in the Zone and knocks Danny into something that's floating in the Zone with the ability to deage or was hit by a new Fenton or Plasmius invention while fighting in town that accidentally deages him.
Danny, who in this was adopted, gets put back to the age of six. The same age he had been found by Jazz in a 'haunted' forest Jack and Maddie were visiting/investigating while also using that time as a family vacation. (They were shocked to see a little boy with a stab wound bleeding out and rushed him to the nearby town, almost completely forgetting about the glowing green tiny puddle they found nearby and bagged most of it as evidence when they heard Jazz's scream of terror over finding the hurt little boy)
The sudden revert into that traumatized age, along with the child response to a fight or flight scenario, and add Danny's deepest need/wish to be protected his child fogged mind wishes to go to the one person who always made him feel safe.
His twin/older brother.
Just as quick as it was with Danny being turned into a child, his ghost powers ripped open a portal and sent Danny to the person he wants to be with...
Only he didn't know that right at that moment his seventeen year old twin/older brother is currently fighting the League with his family's help (his mother was trying to convince him to return to the League and be it's heir) in Nanda Parbat (the very place Damian lost the last/only person he knew loved him without any strings attached.)
So imagine everyone's face when a portal opened up, some muttering its a new pit being formed before them or something, and crawling out of it is a very scared and confused six year old Danny.
If you've ever looked at a bit of crumbling drywall and gone "boy am I hungry right now" then meringues are the recipe for you. They're simultaneously very simple and very finnicky, but if you can get the hang of them then you can experience eating chalk (but sweet!) whenever you want, with none of the limestone content involved in eating real chalk. A batch of meringues is just 3 egg whites, (at ROOM TEMPERATURE) 1/8th teaspoon cream of tartar, 3/4 cups regular white granulated sugar, and a half teaspoon of vanilla extract. (or you could do a different flavor, if you like your conkrete to be fancy. I do not. I am here to experience texture with minimal flavor.)
You combine all the ingredients but the sugar in a mixer with a whisk attachment, and whisk at high speed until soft peaks form. Then slowly sift in the granulated sugar, whisking as you go. Once all the sugar is whisked in, keep mixing for another five minutes--the mix should be glossy and sleek, not dry.
Then pipe the cookies onto a parchment-lined pan, about two inches across, leaving an inch of space between. If you have fancy frosting tips and a piping bag, use them. Bafflingly, I do not have those (why? what have I been doing with my life that I own three machetes but not frosting tips?) so I just used a gallon ziplock with a hole poked into it and made beautiful little angel turd shapes.
They bake at 200 F for 45 minutes, and then should be allowed to rest in the oven for another half hour with the temperature off. Don't open the oven while they bake! Let them cool completely, and then you can eat something that has both the visual look and the mouth-feel of a packing peanut.
I love these things. I'll post an out-of-oven picture when they're done in like an hour.
Guys. Guys who is Cscoop. I know I’m not supposed to be bias. But I saw his name, looked him up, saw he did gaming and said ‘welp. Spot filled! The bracket is ready now : ))))’ I have no memory of this man. I’m voting for him. Tango? Look at Team TIES. Listen to this man talk about redstone and Etho. Etho is also Decked Out’s winner, and Tango is its master. That’s an ethogirl if I’ve never seen one. He’s also the man who got Etho to first mention his cursed set up.
Gee, what a sweet and insightful character moment from Donatello, that’s relevant to the recent Mutant Mayhem turtles struggles as well. I sure hope a certain sarcastic shithead in the room won’t say anything to undercut-
second entry for @steddiemicrofic pool | wc: 442 | rated: G | cw: a little suggestive at the end
It was the hottest day of the year yet. Mall culture drew the masses, and the masses had flooded Scoops, which was currently manned by only Robin Buckley and Steve Harrington.
The space? Packed.
The line? Through the door.
The sticky ice cream residue smeared across their uniforms caught on their forearms, snagging at their skin as they worked up a sweat in the ice cream shop. They didn't have time to clear tables, clean up spills, or take out the trash, let alone deal with the typical bullshit banter that customers threw at them.
"We're out of peppermint stick."
"How? That's literally your least popular flavor."
It took everything in Robin to just smile flatly. Steve, however, couldn't hold back his exasperation as he threw his head back with an eye roll, pushed through the door to the back, then re-emerged with a challengingly deadpanned, "We're out."
He's pretty sure their ordering a USS Butterscotch was petty revenge. Whatever. It was only the seventh banana split he'd had to assemble in the last hour. His eye didn't twitch or anything.
After that, he and Robin swapped out. Figured it was time, since Steve had been scooping ice cream for so long. No other reason.
"Captain," the next customer greeted with a smirk.
Steve couldn't help but smile.
"What can I get you, sailor?"
"Oh, 'sailor' today," the customer said. Steve shot an amused look of warning. "I see."
Steve took in their appearance — deeply sleeveless band tee, flushed skin, sparkling brown eyes, curly hair in a low bun — as they mulled over options.
"Scoop of chocolate in a cup with a waffle sail, please," they smirked, placing a bill in Steve's open hand.
"You could've just gotten a cone," Steve replied, gathering change.
"Not the same, big boy."
Steve's lips curled up into a smile as he grabbed a spoon, stuck it in the scoop next to the artfully-placed wedge (nice, Robin), and handed the cup to Eddie.
"Aww, no baby spoon?"
"We're out." Steve glanced at his lips.
Eddie's eyes shifted to peer over Steve's shoulder to the well-stocked container.
"I'll eat it too fast."
"Aww," Steve gave a faux sympathetic pout. "Guess you'll have to get another scoop."
Eddie hummed then raised the cup in thanks with, "Birdie."
Robin saluted, and Eddie settled into a seat with a full view of Steve at the counter.
Through the hustle, Steve couldn't help but look over and take in Eddie slowly eating a big spoonful of ice cream. How his lips contoured the lump of chocolate. With full eye contact.
Steve overshot a cup, making strawberry milkshake pool onto his shoes.
the last three losers left in derry (i headcanon stan and richie to be the last to leave, so stan, richie, and mike) having at this point realized that when you leave derry you forget and they sit down together to watch stand by me because they remember watching it when it came out and thinking it was the greatest but they're seventeen now and all of their friends have forgotten them and richie and stan know that they too will one day forget, and mike knows he will be the only one left who remembers, so suddenly the movie doesn't seem as wonderful as it used to. they wanted to turn it off when gordie started saying "i never had any friends later on like the ones i had when i was twelve" but just stared at the TV long after the credits had rolled instead.
Ohhh fic where Steve and Robin and Dustin and Erica all casually make funny little haha jokes with each other about getting tortured/almost caught by the Russians under Starcourt because they all have that shared trauma and had many a long late night calls reassuring each other they're alive and playing dnd together and fulfilling lifetime supply of icecream obligations.
They do this because sure the rest of the party knew there were Russians under Starcourt but everything they went through in that basement was sorta...forgotten in the aftermath of literal flesh monster. And with Hopper dead and the Byers moving, there's so much happening that whatever happened to Steve's face (lost another fight...) and why he and Robin went from mildly antagonistic co-workers to codependent goobers who couldn't go literally a day without seeing the other or what made Dustin always ask if Erica was going to come for party hang outs are all sort of brushed under the rug. Not a big deal, really. Bigger things happening after everything.
And they cope together and scoops troop is a weird little section of the party no one but them really understands. Robin and Steve are attached at the hip and to a lesser extent so are Erica and Dustin (but they'll never admit it), and they all have mini gatherings together.
So, the casual mentioning of starcourt and specifically what went down with the Russians is commonplace for them. (Erica is quick to remind them she saved their asses, and are they so lame they need her help again? but she smiles and Steve and Robin just laugh and give her a big hug.) And somehow, they forget that not everyone really knows what went down before July 4th 1985.
And I want them to do it in front of everyone. I want them to have their stupid "this was so fucked up but we're alive and we got through it so now we have to laugh or we may never stop crying about it" banter at a big "we saved the world again!" Barbecue. I want the rest of the folks there to go silent and them not to notice.
I want someone to mention Steve not getting a black eye this time, congrats! and Robin going "the only reason why I didn't get one last time was because the Russians said-"
And Steve, who is lying with his head in her lap, reaches up to gently cup her cheek and says in a terrible Russian accent "don't worry, we will not ruin your pretty face!" (everyone is quiet around them, they do not notice)
She laughs. "And punched me in the gut a few more times. I peed blood for like, three days."
Steve goes "ewwww" only to be pinched by robin.
"you peed blood too, dingus. You got it worse than me and my pretty face."
He giggles and opens his hand up for a high five "pissing blood buddies, hell yeah!" And shifts in her lap. "But they bruised my pretty face. Rude."
"aww. It's okay, Stevie, your face is still so pretty. Prettiest boy in Hawkins."
"thanks Robin."
"at least Dustin and Erica got us out before they started ripping out fingernails." She shudders.
"or used the bonesaw"
"mmm. Unfortunately not before we got funky truth serum drugs though."
He leans up, looking at the two "y'all couldn't have been a bit faster?" But he's smiling, teasing. A well worn joke.
Dustin and Erica respond simultaneously with "I'm missing bones, Steve, what do you want from me?" And "I was ten and my legs were short as shit. Beggars can't be choosers." Respectively.
It is at this point an Actual Grown Up butts in.
"what. What do you mean ripping out fingernails?"
Robin and Steve look towards Joyce, who asked.
"like. To interrogate us? Because we just kept saying we worked for scoops even with the truth serum."
"because they thought we had to be superspies to get into their creepy lair and not a bunch of kids."
"mmhmm"
Hopper jumps in "wait. You were tortured by them?"
Robin and Steve give him eerily similar looks that express how obvious the answer to that is.
"yeah, duh."
"I don't go looking to get brain damage every year, you know."
Hoppers eye twitches. "Why didn't you say anything?"
katsuki is fresh from the shower and still wrapped in a towel when you come in, and at the sound of your voice, his interest in fiddling with his hair quickly fades.
he doesn't turn around to stare at you fully—at least, not at first; his eyes meet yours in the mirror and widen, almost imperceptibly, before tracking down the expanse of your reflection. you told him about the costume you'd ordered, but his response had been simple, acknowledgement more than anything, and now—
the slow simmering flush on his cheeks is more obvious when he finally faces you—and it's a bit too high on his cheekbones to be from any hot water.
katsuki clears his throat before he speaks, swallowing once. "the hell're you wearin'?"
you shrug, and though you can tell from his body language that he doesn't dislike it—a shyness pools in your belly, suddenly too seen under his warm gaze. you fiddle with the cheap material, tugging lightly at how it sits on your hips.
"my halloween costume!" you try to remain upbeat regardless, smiling widely at him as you pose appropriately, to show off the full effect. "what do you think?"
his mouth screws up in a way that could come across as disgust to the wrong person, but you know him better than that; this is him trying to keep control of his face when he doesn't know what to do with it. instead of answering right away, he crosses the bedroom until he's standing in front of you, poking at your headband and the blocky, plastic jewelry that came in the package.
at his side, his palm runs across the towel on his waist. like he's sweating.
"'s'cute." katsuki finally mumbles, dropping his eyes to the neckline of your costume when you grin. you feel him tugging lightly, too, on the material at your hips, before settling on your waist.
you'd kiss him if it wouldn't ruin your makeup.
"i'm so glad you think so," you tell him, genuinely, leaning forward to lightly boop his nose with yours—and when he only hums in response, softened, you hit him with the truth. "because i bought you one to match!"