#frosted banana bars

[furawau]

Desserts - Frosted Banana Bars

Great tasting banana bars that are moist and sweet. Frost with cream cheese icing and enjoy!

[transtoons]

Frosted Banana Bars Excellent banana bars that are sweet and moist. Enjoy after frosting with cream cheese icing!

[salvadoranarthistory]

Recipe for Frosted Banana Bars Excellent banana bars that are sweet and moist. Enjoy after frosting with cream cheese icing!

[sweetoothgirl]

Brown Butter Frosted Banana Bread Bars

[fullcravings]

Banana Bars with Cream Cheese Frosting

[madegeeky]

Is cooking and baking for a tea party dinner an all day thing for other people too or do we just go too insane when it comes to tea party dinners?

[tiberiusblacktorn]

Banana Bars Banana frosting tops these delicious, soft banana bars. Wow, wow!

[quotationmachine]

Banana Split Cake Bars Bananas, crushed pineapple and maraschino cherries are all baked into a cake. A light, buttery frosting is applied, and the cake is cut into bars for snacking.

[kirstenrivera]

Fruit Desserts - Banana Split Cake Bars Bananas, crushed pineapple and maraschino cherries are all baked into a cake. A light, buttery frosting is applied, and the cake is cut into bars for snacking.

[mcfagel]

Banana Bars - Banana Dessert

[konigsblog]

MORE DOMESTIC 141 HEADCANNONS

headcannons 1 , masterlist

warnings: drinking maybe, fluff. a lot of it ... and some stupid little headcannons that i think personally fit each 141 character :-) gn!reader i think.. photo credit: @yumethefrostypanda

SIMON ‘GHOST’ RILEY

loves smoking a cigarette with you on the balcony outside your small, yet comforting apartment. even if you don't smoke, just standing outside with him. he's shirtless, enjoying the cool breeze against his bare, scarred chest and looking down on traffic in manchester and the people running about. something about being around people feels comforting to him.

naps during the day. before dinner, you'll find him snoozing on the couch. his phone buzzing with an alarm that hasn't stopped going off. you always chuckle, sitting down beside him and admire his features without that mask on. his raspy, sleep voice so deep it makes you giggle.

bar hopping with him and soap. like i said in my last headcannons, soap loves bar hopping. catching up and giggling whenever soap flirts with you, met with a harsh, stern “johnny.”

JOHNNY ‘SOAP’ MACTAVISH

his dumb jokes, that only sometimes makes sense. he might even wake you up with a cheesy pick-up line, groaning and turning over. he got the hint, never used it again... “babe, do you like raisins? how do you feel about a date?”

back scratches. he'll lean over, asking you to scratch his back before he falls asleep. by the time you're finished, he's asleep, dead silent before he begins snoring like a wild animal.

baking together. not only is he horrible at cooking, you're even worse as a duo. somehow, there's flour in places they never should've reached, on the couch and pillows. and definitely ended up using out of date frosting, not realising till after that the milk was also spoiled. you bought a cake instead and pretended like you made it so you both wouldn't cry.

CAPTAIN JOHN ‘PRICE’

the smell of nicotine around the house. god, he stinks of it. occasionally — multiple times a day — going out for a smoke break, absolutely reeking of smoke afterwards. he feels bad, ends up showering and cuddling you when you're in bed.

his baths. not a joke, that the man loves his bath. although, he stands pretty tall which means he makes a complete mess of the bathroom floor. definitely has candles dimmed and lit, his eyes shut tight with cucumbers over them, bubbles overflowing from the tub and a drink of whiskey beside him on a folded table.

a drunk mess. he can drink a lot when he has the chance, meaning you either have to sleep on the couch and risk back pain, or attempt to drag him to bed. his arm slung over your shoulder, weighing you down before crumbling to his knees beside the bed. you gave him his pillow and a blanket and went to sleep.

KYLE ‘GAZ’ GARRICK

his amazing breakfasts. usually, they're healthy. probably either fried eggs and toast, with some vegetables on the side, a cup of cucumber water and a bowl of strawberries. or, an açai bowl, usually consisting of; strawberries, raspberries, mango and banana.

massages. you take turns massaging eachother, one person a day, then the next, a loop and a pattern. your hands working out the knots in his shoulders, applying pressure and leaving him relaxed and probably snoring silently. — doesn't really snore, just the sounds of shallow breathing beside your ear.

bodycare... he cares a lot about how he smells, which usually means you're dragged with him to buy some cologne, asking for your favourite so he can have you all over him. usually something fruity, a little bit of vanilla and pinewood, but usually consists of a fruit scent.

[montrealmadison]

Congratulations on 400 followers! I’m newish to the fandom and your blog was one of the first I followed!

Pair: Nursey/Dex

Song: 28

Vibes: first date (can include smut if it fits in)

Congratulations again!!!!

thank you so much and welcome to the fandom!! this is only the second time i've written nurseydex and it's an honor to do so for you ❤️ i did not manage to squeeze the smut in but i did provide the lead-up so i hope that's acceptable. please enjoy these banana nut muffins being dorky and awkward on their two first dates

28. nurseydex + first date + I Love You More Than You Think by Rizzie Kicks for @hrtstppr95

I think that we know that we know each other really well I know I wanna know you for the rest of my life Because no matter the length of time that’s gone by When I see you, it’s fine It’s like I just saw you last night 

Dex is thinking about why fancy restaurants invest in stupid shit when Nursey says, “Poindexter, I don’t think this is working.”

Their table is a good one, tucked into a private corner and partially hidden by a big potted plant. The downside to this is that apparently nobody thought to install overhead lighting in this swanky Boston seafood bar, and the candle holder—which, for some reason, is shaped like a miniature lobster wearing a chef’s coat—is doing a terrible job at casting light on the worried expression that Nursey is wearing. Dex looks down at his clenched hands in his lap and can’t help but mirror what he can see of the frown.

read more below or on ao3 | request a fic here

God, he knew he was going to fuck this up. Dex doesn’t do a lot of standing on ceremony, but even he can admit that first dates are a big deal, that they deserve care. When Nursey had come to him with this grand plan for a fancy, candlelit dinner, his treat, he’d known it might be uncomfortable, that he might have to pretend to get it. This kind of thing isn’t him, not at all.

But it is Nursey. He looks right here, casually elegant in a blazer he doesn’t wear to games, half-empty glass in his hand with the ice clinking soft at the bottom. He’s been so excited for this, talking it up all week to anyone who’d listen. Of course it’s Dex who doesn’t fit in. Four years in this weird parallel world to the one he’s used to and he still can’t make himself take the shape of someone who belongs in both.

“No,” he agrees, eyes dropping back to his hands. There’s a long fresh scar along the base of his thumb, the brightest thing in the room. “Sorry.”

“Shit—Dex, no.”

Nursey’s hand appears in his field of view, warm and brown and stark against the tablecloth. Dex looks up, surprised, and finds Nursey’s face much better lit and clearly concerned.

“I just meant, like—you look uncomfy, dude.” He bounces the outstretched hand lightly on the table until Dex reaches up to still it with his own. “Are you having a good time?”

“Oh.” He feels wrongfooted by how much Nursey notices. “Uh, yeah, I guess… not really.” 

The thought’s only out there for half a second before he scrambles after how wrong it sounds in the air between them. “I mean, with you, yeah. But it’s, um, fancy here. Didn’t wanna… ugh, it’s stupid.”

“It’s not.” Nursey considers the watery Coke in the bottom of his glass, then drains it in one. “That’s not on you, ‘kay? I should have thought of that.”

The ensuing silent discussion, born of many years of finely honed skill at arguing silently on the ice, leads to an agreement that they need to get the hell out of here as soon as possible. Nursey flags down the server for the check; Dex lets go of Nursey’s hand on the table and spends the next ten minutes cussing out the stupid lobster, who, thankfully, does not respond.

They don’t speak again until they’re back in Nursey’s (asshole) Jeep. The parking lot is packed; the only space they’d been able to find is out in the farthest row from the restaurant, looking down the hill that faces Route 9. The air is freezing in the way that precedes a blizzard. Every leaf is crackling with frost, and even with the doors closed and the engine shuddering to life, Dex can see his breath.

He can see Nursey’s, too, when he says, “Dude, I’m really sorry.”

“S’okay.” Dex shivers. “Really. Not your fault I can’t hang.”

“Poindexter, come on.” The collar of Nursey’s sweater is folded funny over the top of his coat. Dex’s eyes stick on it. “That’s not it. I should have picked somewhere we would both have fun.”

Asshole Dex says in his head, Oh, you think? 

Civilized Human Dex, perched on his other mental shoulder, says, Hey, you agreed to this. Be an adult. 

Dex the Walking Basket Case tips his head back into the seat and wonders how long the chirps would last if he fessed up to talking to himself like this. Out loud he says, “It’s really okay, Nurse. ‘Sides, night’s young.”

Nursey turns the heat up as high as it’ll go, makes that noise that means okay, I’ll bite. He reaches over and folds Dex's fingers into the warmth of his palm, a conciliatory gesture that Dex can never admit makes him feel all soft in the middle like a homemade Bittle pie. “That’s true,” he says. “Any ideas?”

Dex leans on the cold window, lets it chill his overheated skin. Without really thinking about it, he says, “We could go skate.” 

It’s more to break the silence that’s fallen than anything else. When he turns back around, though, it’s to find Nursey looking at him with interest.

“What, at Faber?”

“Yeah.”

“Isn’t it locked?”

Against all odds, Dex finds himself smirking. “Come on, Nurse, I’m the captain. You think I don’t have keys to our own rink?”

Nursey’s grinning too, now. This is what Dex loves and hates about him, the way it comes so easily. He never wants that to change, no matter how much he used to tell himself otherwise. Despite this failure of a night, he thinks, he’s happy.

“Well,” Nursey drawls. “‘Swawesome.”

He pulls their hands apart and squeezes Dex’s thigh twice. Dex bats him away, smile stretching despite himself, and says, “Just drive.”

---

Faber is cold and quiet, no signs of life but the hum of the heating vents far above. Dex hits the ice first, sketches a long, curving line towards the box and then back toward the bench. He can’t really see Nursey, but hears him follow through the dark just the same.

The air between them is suddenly charged, heavy. They don’t speak. They don’t even really skate together, each carving their own loops at opposite ends of the ice, watching each other out of the corners of their eyes. Dex feels oddly naked. It’s a weird combination of silk tie and suit pants and his grimy skates, marked up by the years.

He stops on the blue line, bracketed by a big white square of moonlight. The windows are gorgeous, especially without the fluorescents to compete, framing the sky and the spreading branches of the linden tree that Shitty always told the story about getting stuck in. In three or four months they’ll play their last game here, a thought that settles leaden and cold in Dex’s stomach. He watches a cloud pass over the moon. If there’s someone out there to hear him, he thinks, then let them hear him wish, desperately, for five more minutes.

Someone does hear, because there’s sudden warmth at his back. Nursey’s chin settles heavy on his shoulder, and his hands curl around Dex’s bare forearms. Dex leans back and lets Nursey hold him for no reason other than that he likes to, and Dex likes it when Nursey likes the things he does.

“Feel better?”

It’s a whisper. Dex’s whole body goes cold, then hot.

“Yes,” he says.

“Good,” says Nursey, nosing into the side of Dex’s neck. “Nice save.”

Dex shrugs and feels Nursey’s head move with him. He has the weirdest sense that the two of them have become the same being, moving in tandem, breathing as one. “I wouldn’t mind doing dinner again,” he says. “Don’t want you to think it wasn’t a good date.”

Nursey frees his thumbs from where they’re tucked under his fingers and runs his hands lightly up and down Dex’s arms. “Well, I’m flattered,” he says. “Still. We’re just two college idiots, man, no need for fine dining just yet. Sorry.”

Annoyance sparks in Dex’s gut. He was starting to enjoy this, feels like he doesn't need to be reminded every five minutes of how sorry they both are about the whole thing. “Will you stop apologizing,” he groans, and goes to turn around, but Nursey’s massive hands clamp down swiftly on his arms, and he freezes in place.

“No,” Nursey says.

Dex’s heart is suddenly slamming against his ribs, just like that. Huh. Mood officially un-killed.

“As a matter of fact,” he continues, “I was thinking about how to make it up to you.”

Oh—oh. 

Dex is not the poetry guy of the two of them, but Nursey makes him feel like that last long look before a kiss. Maybe they don’t make sense together. Maybe they’re only going to belong in each other’s lives for a little while. College relationships can be like that. But here, now, Dex is in the place where he and Nursey became a team twice, and that means something. Dex knows it does.

“Yes,” he says.

Nursey finally releases him and spins him around so they’re facing each other. He quirks an eyebrow, but he’s smiling, and the moon in his eyes is huge and bright.

“You didn’t even hear my proposition, Poindexter. I had this whole—”

Dex cuts him off with a kiss. The two of them together might not be logical or satisfying, but they’re a damn good twist ending, and besides. The night is young, and he knows what he wants.

When he says yes again, Nursey just shakes his head, laughs, and pulls him towards the tunnel to the locker room.

[frostandflamesfanfic]

Of Sweets & Sweaters (Steve Harrington x Reader)

Of Sweets & Sweaters (Rated T)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader (gender neutral)

Word Count: 2.1k+

Warnings: Brief language and suggestive comment made by Steve, nothing too crazy.

Summary: Stevemas Day 5- A few months after the Great Hawkins 'Quake, Robin decides to throw a little holiday celebration for the party and the older kids. However, Steve isn't too happy with the dress code. Is there anything you can do to convince him otherwise?

“Hey, babe?” Steve’s voice called out from your shared bedroom.You had to bite back the smile that threatened to stretch its way across your face at his tone of voice. It was fairly obvious what his whining could be about. What was so wrong about having a little fun in the process?

“Yes, honey?” you replied in the sweetest tone you could muster. 

“You love me, right?”

You couldn’t help it; a small snort escaped. “Of course I love you. Why would you ask that?”

“Because if you loved me,” your boyfriend’s voice grew louder as he approached the kitchen, “you wouldn’t be forcing me to wear this absolute and utter monstrosity.”

He stepped into the room wearing the brightest red sweater you had ever seen in your life. Covered in pom-poms and tinsel, Steve looked as though he had stepped right out of an offensive Christmas card. To top it all off, there was very exaggerated Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer stitched into the front of the sweater.

You gave a low whistle. “Damn, babe,” you mused. “And here I thought it looked good on the mannequin. This is so much better. I think red really is your color.”

“Oh, yeah?” Steve raised an eyebrow. “Well then, where’s yours? I wouldn’t want you to miss out on sharing this experience with me.” 

You smiled and held up your hands, which were currently covered in dough. There was a dusting of flour all over your clothes, making you look as though you had spent plenty of time in the fresh snow from the previous evening. For the last few hours, you had been slaving over a hot oven putting together the fixings for some of your friends’ favorite holiday desserts. 

Dustin loved brownies, especially when you folded pieces of Three Musketeers bars into the batter. Eleven had found herself becoming partial to your peanut butter blossoms, although it’s most likely because Mike introduced her to the best part: the Hershey’s kiss. There were cookies for Max and Lucas, who preferred to have their snacks on the go. Nancy always preferred the elegant classics, so you went with a chocolate silk pie, which you knew she would love to share with your queen of sweets: Robin. For Eddie, you made your spiked eggnog meltaways, which you knew for a fact Jonathan always stole a few bites of when no one else was looking. 

“My god, it looks like a bakery exploded in here,” Steve remarked, walking over to the counter to swipe some cream cheese frosting that you made for Argyle and Will’s pineapple-banana hummingbird cupcakes. 

“Hey!” you exclaimed, swatting his hand away after he stuck the dollop in his mouth. You tried your best to shoo him back from your workstation. “You have your own desserts coming. I’ve been baking for four days now. Wait your turn, mister.”

“Desserts, as in plural, hm?” Your boyfriend sidled up behind you and snaked his arms around your waist, face buried into the crook of your neck. 

“I may have made that chocolate bark you love so much,” you said with a hum, allowing yourself to melt into his hold for a moment. There was something so special and intimate about these moments with your boyfriend. Steve made you feel like you were the most important person in the world, not just to him, but everyone. You always hated attention, but the love and admiration you noticed in his eyes every time he tells you he loves you makes you overlook that distaste – if only just to see him happy. 

“Oh, yeah?” Steve smiled against your skin, his lips pressing against it in the form of many light kisses. You had to refrain from giggling. “What else?”

“And there might be some fresh gingerbread in the oven right now.”

There was a gentle nip to your ear, which was accompanied by wiggling fingers that danced along your sides. “Mmm, nothing else?”

You gasped and turned to swat at him again. “Steven Joseph Harrington!” you exclaimed. “You get your mind out of the gutter this instant! How dare you try to seduce me while I’m baking for the children.”

Steve groaned. “I can’t help it how hot you look in that apron, babe,” he whined. “Just want to eat you up.”

A hot flush burned at your neck as it spread up and across your cheeks. “Well, maybe later,” you stuttered out. “But for now, I have to get back to work on these treats if they’re going to be ready for us to take to Robin’s tonight.”

In preparation for the holiday season, yours and Steve’s shared best friend, Robin Buckley, had decided to throw a little impromptu party for your friends. After everything that had gone on in your small town over the years, she was determined to salvage one of the happiest (or, to quote the great Andy Williams, the most wonderful) times of the years. She had been planning the party for weeks, selecting only the “best” Christmas films of all time and records that would keep everyone feeling the Christmas spirit – even if it meant playing a few Black Sabbath songs for Eddie. Everyone was meant to bring something to eat and you had volunteered to bring the desserts. While you had nothing against the local bakery, there was nothing like the taste of a freshly made baked good that came from the heart rather than a plastic container. 

The only catch? The dress code was U.C.S.O.:

Ugly Christmas Sweaters Only, otherwise known as what Steve liked to refer to as his own personal hell.

Speaking of your boyfriend, he sighed and stepped away from torturing you momentarily to run his fingers through his dark brown hair. “Fine,” he relented. “Do you need any help, though?” 

With a sigh, you glanced around the warzone of a kitchen and placed your hands on your hips. Everything was pretty much done for the most part. There were a few things in the oven, but everything that needed to be prepped before the party was already set aside and cooling. “I mean, I think I’m just about done. Just have to clean up and get everything out of the oven.”

“If you want,” Steve offered, “I can finish and clean up so you can get ready.”

You felt your heart grow soft as you smiled at the man before you. “Really?” you asked. “You’d do that for me?”

Your boyfriend shrugged. “Of course! How could I say no to my baby like that? I would be, like, the world’s worst boyfriend then, wouldn’t I?”

You giggled and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Not the worst. But you would most certainly still be the cutest.”

“Well, shucks, babe,” Steve teased as he began to roll up his sleeves. “I’m flattered.”

With a wink, he pulled on his yellow rubber gloves and procured a sponge from beside the faucet. His outfit reminded you of the old days, back when your relationship was still new and the two of you were battling an alien dog that had eaten one of your babysitting charges’ cat. While you were glad those days were behind you, there was still a part of you that missed the adventure and worried if the quiet domesticity would be enough for Steve. 

It wasn’t that you were afraid it wasn’t what he wanted– the two of you had had a lengthy conversation about your futures, with both of you being in agreement of wanting to start a family together at some point. You were more worried about the fact Steve may become bored with the idea of a domestic you, where the most rebellious thing you did each day would be whether or not you cut the crusts off your sandwich. 

“Babe?” Steve’s voice cut through your thoughts, snapping you back to reality. When you glanced over to acknowledge him, you noticed the concern practically radiating off of his face. “Are you okay?”

“Hm? Oh, uh, yeah,” you tried to console him. “Just…got lost in thought is all.”

Unfortunately, that hardly did anything to lessen the stress your boyfriend exhibited. His frown only deepened as he set down the sponge and pulled the gloves off to cradle your face in his hands. There was an emotion you couldn’t quite place flickering in his expression. It was almost like a twinge of sadness mixed with…guilt? 

“Are you sure?” he asked, more urgently this time. “You looked like you were in, like, another world or somethin’.”

Oh. 

It made more sense now. Ever since the earthquake, Steve had been increasingly protective over you. He worried about your every move for months, especially since you had become seduced by the siren song of a ticking clock. The same song that took the lives of so many others. It almost took you away from him, too. The night you froze in his arms, shaking in fear with eyes rolled toward the back of your head. They didn’t know your favorite song, they didn’t know how to save you. In an act of blind desperation, Steve had hummed the only song he could think of, which was coincidentally the first song you danced to at the kid’s Snow Ball: Time After Time. 

You can still remember how soft and broken his voice sounded as he sang to you. 

“If you're lost, you can look, and you will find me,” he whispered between tears. “Time after time. If you fall, I will catch you, I'll be waiting. Time after time.” 

If you didn’t believe in the power of true love before then, you did the moment you broke free from the trace and came face-to-face with Steve’s teary hazel eyes. When he finally realized you had come back, he pulled you into a dizzying and searing kiss you can sometimes still feel if you think about it. It wasn’t just a declaration of love, or the feeling of relief, but a promise of a future he one day hoped to share with you. 

“Steve.” You reached up to grab his face with your own hands. “I’m fine, I promise. I was just thinking about things.”

“Are- are you sure?” His voice came out a bit crackly, as though he was on the verge of anxious tears. 

“Absolutely one-hundred-percent sure,” you assured him. With a bit of additional height gained from being on your tiptoes, you pressed a kiss onto his lips. I’m here, it said. And I’m not going anywhere. 

“Now. I’m going to go get cleaned up and get this flour out of my hair so we can get ready to go. If we make them all wait for too long, Robin’s gunna put us on dishes duty.” 

Steve groaned. “But we already did so much…” 

“No, I did the baking. You just stood there and looked pretty.”

Your boyfriend playfully lifted a nearby dish towel and proceeded to swat at your butt with it. “Okay, that’s enough outta you, babe. Go get ready.” 

- - - - - - - - - - - -

About an hour later, you arrived back downstairs feeling refreshed and excited for the holiday festivities that undoubtedly lay ahead of you for the rest of the night. You tugged are your sweater, hoping the material wouldn’t rise up too much over the course of wearing it. When you had washed the sweaters, you had made the mistake of drying yours a bit too long. You were pretty sure it had shrunk, but there was nothing else you could do about it. 

“Well, damn,” Steve let out a low whistle. “I think it’s official. My baby can make anything look good.”

Flattered, you blushed and gave your boyfriend a playful twirl. The sweater wasn’t that much different than his. Fashioned from a similar red colored yarn, your sweater boasted more snowflakes that pom-poms. A non-red-nosed reindeer outfitted the front, its grin appearing a little too eager for the holidays. Tinsel adorned the neck and wrists of the top, as well, ensuring that you’d definitely stand out alongside Steve. 

“Why thank you,” you teased. “But I still think you wear Melvald’s originals better than I do, babe.”

“Remind me to burn that store to the ground one day.” 

You rolled your eyes and slipped on your coat. “It’s not that bad, Steve!” 

“Says you!!” your boyfriend argued. “You literally look smoking hot, while I’m over here looking like a very festive tomato.”

“Ah, yes. But you’re my festive tomato.” You pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before you picked up a tower of cookie containers. Was this potentially too many desserts? Possibly. But what else are the holidays for if not enjoying sweet treats with the ones you love most? 

“Come on, tomato boy!” you called from over your shoulders. “Help me load in these desserts so we can go show the kids just who means business at Christmas trivia.”

==============

Author's Note: Anddd we're back. How's everyone enjoying Stevemas so far? We're almost halfway through at this point, and I have to admit, I'm starting to lose a bit of steam. I have about four unplanned fics left to write, so if anyone has any Christmas (or other holiday season) ideas, please feel free to send them my way!

If you enjoyed this story, make sure to leave a comment, tag a friend who might be interested, and give this post a cheeky reblog! These types of interactions really help me out as a writer. They tell me what you like to see and keep me motivated and writing! I mentioned this last time and I think it helped out a bit with the engagement, so if you want to stay in the loop of all things Stevemas or any of my other fics, don't be afraid to follow or ask to be included in my tag lists. I promise I'm a very friendly person who won't spam you too much with my fandom musings :)

Until next time, my little sparks <3

Taglist: @bakerstreethound

[bloomingdarkgarden]

Hi!

Big fan of your work. I'm really excited for the WBITD update, it's such a great story. Will you be updating your Kallias x Viviane story at some point? I reread it monthly because it, too, has me in a chokehold. No pressure of course (:

Hello excuse me, anon who LOVES VIV AND KALLIAS AS DEEPLY AS I?? Marry me. I am so touched anyone at all cares about that story because the worldbuilding I put into the Winter Court is borderline bananas insane. How HAPPY it makes me that it means something to you! I am a method actor writer and I am ass-deep in Elain's head right now, incapable of breaking for other characters. It will happen in the next couple of months, there's just not a set timeframe. Here is a snippet in the meantime:

******

They painted her face dark, her pale blue eyes now shimmering like broken crystals in the black.

The hum of the ancient gods resounded through stone halls.

Echoing, Echoing, Echoing.

One of the generals stepped forward, slicing a cut down the swell of her lower lip. The final, lasting rite of passage to join the winter ranks.

Viviane stepped past him, towards the ageless stained wall towering beyond. A silent moment as she smeared the blood from her mouth to the center of her hand.

“I bleed with you,” she whispered, dragging her bloodied palm over the stone, as ten thousand years of winter warriors had done before her.

She turned, facing the ranks, blood dripping from her lips.

“Cowards die a thousand deaths,” she uttered, “but the valiant only die once.”

Warriors lining the hall released a sounding battle cry, drumming their feet, the deafening roar shaking stone and snow-cut peaks alike.

Revelry was in short order.

But here, now, just for the briefest moment- there was only stillness. Only the vast view from the Rift’s high windows looking across the nothinglands and into the Middle.

Viviane’s face shifted into something cruel, unforgiving as she stepped forward, staring out of that grand precipice.

A frost-edged wind blew northward, directly from her soul into the atmosphere. Whispering on the eve of that black-stoned mountain in the distance that held six High Lords prisoner. Here, on the most accomplished day of her life, she could think of nothing but Kallias lost to the depth of that soulless peak. Nothing but his sapphire eyes trapped behind poisoned bars.

The only warmth on her coldest night, stolen away by a ruby-wrought foreign nightmare.

That cold, heartless bitch had a target on her back.

And Viviane had an unholy arrow. 

“The long night is coming for you, Amarantha,” Viviane whispered into the northern gale. “Do you feel the cold wind blow?”

[fullcravings]

Banana Bars with Cream Cheese Frosting Recipe

[ultrakdramamama]

Made frosted banana bars tonight and left them cooling on the counter. Came back to find the icing mysteriously missing down one side of the pan🤔and one kitty paw print in that first one gave the culprit away. Damn cat ingested enough butter and sugar to give itself diabetes 🙄 Cats are assholes.

Guess you are thirsty you fat ass…eating all my frosting 😜