#Icebox Cocoa

[ameriko-steelie]

The Sims 3: CC Redirects!

Hello! I'm making a page housing links to archives and backups of inactive/lost/hard-to-find content by old creators, including if their links are broken and such! Here is the page: - The Sims 3: CC Archives / Backups

I am constantly editing it and adding more backups! If you have a creator you'd like to add, contact me!

Right now, I have content from All About Style, BlinkSims, Heiret, Mitarasi, MokaSims3, Tesi, Sakura, and MORE!

Help us to keep old Sims 3 content alive for the newer generations to access and use! Thank you for your time!

[ts3asianccfinds]

CC HELP REQUEST!  Hello fellow simmers! We are having issues recovering some of the cc made by icebox cocoa, such as the hairstyle pictured here. It also seems that there was once a file called "narancha hairstyle with headband" but there is no image available and I've never seen it before.  Ameriko has reuploaded most of their files here - 

@ameriko-steelie

This is a link to icebox cocoa’s original site but it’s not very useful as most of their downloads were password protected.

If you find anything please let us know! Thank you <3

[sims3archives]

hey! do you have any irink@a cc? or any of icebox cocoa's other downloads? there's this dio pose set i'm looking for but it's not in any backups i can find, just his clothes set.

Hello, anon!! @ameriko-steelie hosts this Irink@a folder backup, but it's not complete. Icebox-cocoa has backups here and here.

Hopefully more people can see this message and contribute to this creators backups!!

[what-marsha-eats]

Includes three recipes: 1) replacement chocolate cookies to use in the cake, 2) the cake itself, and 3) the original 1938 cake recipe.

[xocasper]

Sleepless Nights

Pairing: Frank Iero x Reader Summary: Kinktober Day Six - Praise Kink Warnings: NSFW content Tags: fingering, praise kink, mild angst, riding Word Count: 4716 A/N: shoutout to cocoa dyno-bites and anything i wrote in august. also if you’re a real xocasper fan, you know who stephen is. if you don’t, please send an ask so i can talk about stephen. enjoy xo

Four words. Four fucking words and Frank was already sure he’d screw this up.

See, when your cute coworker knocks on your door at eleven o’clock at night, you have no choice but to throw some pants on and chat for a while. It’s like, the law or something. He figured he could do that, getting as far as the pants part before turning into a total dunce. The blame wasn’t on him though–or at least he’d managed to convince himself that–but instead on your shitty landlord who still hadn’t fixed your heating. He knew it had been out for a while, foolishly offering his place in case yours grew too cold, not expecting you to take him up on the offer. October was similar to Frank, coming far too quick, and before he knew it, the city turned into an icebox. Which, unfortunately for you, meant freezing half to death in your apartment.

At first, he wasn’t sure who would be at his door so late, hauling himself out of bed and having half a mind to throw on some sweatpants before trudging down the hall. You hadn’t exactly woken him; not really anyway, but he still had to rub his eyes for good measure, stretching as he opened the door. The sight of you definitely did the job though, and Frank was suddenly wide awake as you shivered in his doorway.

“Can I come in?”

There it was, his only weakness–his hot coworker in thin pajamas, undoubtedly fresh out of bed, asking to stay the night in his apartment. Except you hadn’t really asked him yet, still working up the courage, as you were already embarrassed for waking him up at this hour.

Giving you a once-over, he nodded, “Stephen still being an asshole?”

You smiled bitterly, following him inside. “I’m tempted to start looking for another place to live, honestly.”

He bit his tongue just in time, preventing an enthusiastic yes. Instead, he laughed quietly, closing the door behind you. “I think the guy downstairs is gonna croak soon,” was all he could think of, cringing at his inability to talk to you. “You could come live here.”

“Mhm, and put up with you outside of work, too?” you joked. “I’m thinking of quitting anyway, so I’ll consider it.”

This time, he had to prevent a loud, reflexive no. He could get a real job anywhere, but he chose to stick around a dingy convenience store for your sake. Some of his fondest memories were spent there, the two of you on night shift, laughing until you were sure you’d split a seam, and Frank’s face turning red for reasons other than asphyxiation.

“We’ll miss you if you go,” he shrugged, laying a stack of blankets on the couch.

You shook your head, “You’ll miss me, Frank. You’re the only person I talk to.”

Did his name sound that nice when other people said it or was it just you? And he was the only one you talked to? It would sound pathetic if he said it, but it felt special coming from you. You were special and–god, he needed to get a grip.

“Oh,” he mumbled, motioning for you to sit on the couch. “Well, they’re missing out.”

And then you smiled at him. This pure, golden fucking smile, and he was sure he’d melt into the floorboards. He had to worm his way out somehow, clearing his throat awkwardly, “Do you want a glass of water or anything?”

“I’ll be alright, thank you,” you assured him, tucking yourself under the generous pile of blankets, Frank unsure of whether to leave or not.

Finally, his brain turned back on, gracious enough to form words. “‘Night then,” he nodded, shooting you a small smile. “Sleep well and… yeah.”

“Goodnight,” you laughed lightly, watching him stumble back to his bedroom.

He was typically cool and collected, but tonight he was off, awkward and clumsy and you knew exactly why. You almost hadn’t come here tonight, and now you were wishing that you had gone with your gut, wanting more than anything to escape the suffocating tension, weighing down the apartment despite closed doors and empty halls. It had started the other day, when you had made arguably the biggest mistake of your life, cringing at the thought of it. You were exhausted, you tried to tell yourself, completely braindead after your shift, giggling at nearly everything Frank was saying. It felt good, totally tripped out on serotonin, and as Frank walked you to your car, you turned around and kissed him.

And he didn’t kiss back.

Across the hall, Frank replayed the same memory in his head, the laughter that filled the air, the way you smiled at him when you turned, and how the whole world seemed to pause as your lips met his. Then came the humiliation that followed, remembering how he had stiffened up, floundering as you pulled away. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to kiss you. In fact, he couldn’t come up with a good reason why he hadn’t. Nerves, or something, the same thing that had happened when he had his first kiss back in middle school. By the time his brain had caught up though, it was too late, his heart sinking at the despair on your face. Finally, a quiet goodnight and you were gone, fighting tears on the way home, certain that the unrequited kiss would haunt you forever.

The two of you felt ill at the memory, tossing and turning in separate rooms as you tried to ignore the other’s presence. Squeezing your eyes shut and desperately trying to clear your head was no help, only seeing the look of shock on Frank’s face. Bundling up in the blankets made things worse as well, the smell of his cheap cologne sticking to the fleece like an Elvis song. Everything seemed to remind you of that godforsaken kiss, leaving you to beg the universe for a minute of peace.

Eventually, Frank also grew sick of trying to sleep, wandering into the kitchen for something to drink. All the water in the world couldn’t save him, acting as nothing more than a weak disguise to check if you were as restless as him. Sure enough, you perked up as he padded through the hall, a trace of concern in your eyes as you watched him.

“Can’t sleep?” you asked quietly, tracing his figure as he reached for the cabinet.

He shook his head, “You sure you don’t want water or something?”

“I’m alright.”

Frank knew he shouldn’t have been frustrated, that he should’ve drank his nasty tap water and gone off to bed, but he couldn’t help but beat himself up for letting you slip away like that. Besides, you had come to his apartment, so that had to count for something, right?

“Do you wanna…” he started, the words never mind on the tip of his tongue.

You squinted at him, “Do I wanna…”

Gulping, he tried again. “Do you wanna come lie with me for a bit?”

No.

“Sure,” you nodded.

Fuck. You were really good at making mistakes, weren’t you?

This was an awful idea, sirens going off in your head as Frank downed the rest of his glass, watching as you climbed out from your cocoon. You should’ve stayed put, told him you were fine where you were, anything that didn’t result in following him to bed. Sleeping next to him meant one of two things: more awkward tension or confrontation, and you were dreading both of them. A week ago you would’ve been thrilled; you still were to an extent, filled with an inapposite swarm of butterflies, but they were quickly burned to a crisp by regret and shame.

It was difficult to see in the dark, unsure of where you were going and trying your best not to trip, but Frank’s hand slipped into yours as he walked across his bedroom. He couldn’t have been more grateful for the darkness that swallowed the two of you, disguising the blush that coated his cheeks. It was odd to want each other so badly, only to prefer being hit by an eighteen-wheeler than sleeping side-by-side.

Silence settled between the two of you, an invisible barrier as you laid back to back, having even more trouble sleeping than before. There was a constant theme of overanalysis, listening closely to his breathing, short and labored as he tried not to disturb you. Occasionally, he’d shift, not closer, nor farther, simply in place as if readjustment could save him from insomnia’s clutches. At some point, he had turned over completely, now facing you, who remained staring at his bedroom wall.

“I should’ve kissed back.”

It was sudden and sharp, cutting you open once more, and you would’ve rolled over if you had the strength, desperate to see the sincerity in his eyes. The room was pitch black though, and you were weak, so you stayed put.

“And I shouldn’t have kissed you,” you mumbled back, hardly loud enough for him to hear.

That hurt and Frank could only hope it was a lie. He shifted again, closer this time, before speaking.

“That’s not true,” he said, more to convince himself than you.

You knew he was right, but you still shook your head. “No, Frank, I wasn’t thinking. I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

“Are you thinking now?”

There was a pause, earsplitting and ugly.

“Stop doing that,” you told him.

He stilled for a moment, “Stop doing what?”

You sighed, exasperated. “What you’re doing!”

“You know, you really have a way with words.”

God, you wanted to laugh. It was funny, and on any other day you probably would’ve, but it was more than untimely. You should’ve left, grabbed your shoes, and scrambled back to your frigid apartment, safe from… whatever this was.

You swallowed hard, “Stop trying to justify that kiss, and stop making me consider doing it again.”

“Look at me,” he said softly.

“I can’t see in the dark, dumbass.”

He said your name, his voice tied between frustration and amusement, and you finally rolled over. As expected, you couldn’t see a damn thing, stubbornly crossing your arms as you waited for him to speak.

It didn’t occur to him until then that he had no plan, barely able to make out your features from a few inches away. Briefly, he shut his eyes, taking a deep breath before leaning in, and gave you a fleeting kiss.

Frank pulled away just as quickly, and the room fell silent. There was a slight difference between the silence before and after, thousands of words suppressed by nerves, and now all of them had flown away. In a single kiss, he had managed to make your heart stop, both of you stuck in your heads as you dwelled on it. It was contradictory, guilty and pure, feather-light, but crushing you with the weight of insecurity.

Carefully, you reached for him, fingertips grazing his cheek, almost to prove he was real–that this was real. He didn’t speak, frozen in place as your palm met faint stubble, the two of you anxiously waiting for the other to pull away. The ice should’ve broken when he kissed you; you shouldn’t have been nervous, your stomach churning and lungs forgetting how to breathe as you weighed your options.

Ultimately, you leaned in, much slower than he had, as if you were giving him the chance to pull away, kick you out or reprimand you for your insistence. Frank remained still at first, worried that if he moved an inch you would flinch away, deciding that maybe he wasn’t worth your time after all.

This time was different; you were no longer glistening under streetlights, eyes lit with infatuation as Frank told some stupid joke, his hand on your lower back as you tripped towards your car. You hadn’t thrown caution to the wind, shooting him a smile that could melt just about anyone, kissing him with a passion that should’ve made him weak in the knees. Instead, it was cautious, calculated with a hint of sorrow, waiting for bitter rejection that never came.

Because this time, Frank kissed back.

He kissed you until your worry melted away, soft and easy, his hand slipping back to your waist as he pulled you closer. It was real this time, not a trace of pity or regret as he broke away, and radiating nothing but sincerity as he leaned back in. By the second one, you were leaning in too, never having received sweeter kisses than his, the kind that bordered on medicinal, mending a broken heart.

Frank was right there with you, swooning like a schoolgirl as your lips moved against his, plush and pretty, being savored as if it meant something more–more than friends, coworkers, and the awkward stage in between.

Like honey, your tongue slipped past his lips, parting them so naturally, as if you’d done it before. Everything was slow, much slower than it had been the other night, echoing laughter substituted with hitching breath, impulsive kisses replaced by meaningful ones, though the passion remained the same. Frank touched you as if you were made of china, delicately laying his other hand upon your waist, shifting you over until your palms pressed against his chest.

It was almost uncharacteristic, his caution and reserve paling in comparison to his common ardor, yet to draw a line in the sand. Despite the incessant flirting and stolen glances, everything felt fragile once turned into a reality. Frank wanted this, wanted you. It was a tough pill to swallow, no matter how long you had yearned for it, trying to let your guard down once more. Cautiously, his fingers tugged at the hem of your shirt, a barely-there action that nearly went unnoticed. You were in your head, too caught up in insecurities and endless possibilities, finally letting them fade as his warm touch slid across your waist.

It was apprehensive but didn’t lack affirmation, bringing you back down to earth as he rubbed slow circles on your skin. His lips were barely ghosting over yours, giving you an occasional kiss. It was intimate, light and dizzying, resting your forehead against his and closing your eyes, reveling in a moment of sheer serenity. One of your hands slid up a little further, languidly smoothing over his shoulder until you reached the nape of his neck, shaking up his pattern of light kisses.

This one wasn’t quite like the first and full of energy, nor was it like the second, riddled with trepidation. It was deeper, smooth and sure, your free hand finding its way to his, gradually sliding it up your torso, waiting for a signal to stop. He let you control his hand, taking charge of the kiss instead, hopelessly addicted to you and the mind-numbing taste of satisfaction and greed. To your surprise, he never pulled back, only briefly breaking away to breathe, his eyes fluttering shut as he traced over your sternum. Your hand stayed on his, waiting for his worries to fade, but he hardly seemed to move.

“We don’t have to do anything,” you promised, anxious and embarrassed once more. “I’m sorry.”

Frank didn’t speak for a moment, his free hand cupping your cheek as he kissed you with sincerity. He hushed you at first, followed by a soft, “Let me take care of you.”

“Okay,” you breathed, running your hand through his hair as he nestled his head into your neck.

His kisses weren’t pitiful, and hardly apologetic at that. There was a sense of appreciation, longing and gratitude as his lips graced your neck, peppering it in sweet admiration. He worked diligently, sucking kisses into your skin; it wasn’t enough to leave a mark, but enough for you to remember, certain that a single glance in the mirror could turn you into a puddle. It was intimate and pure, Frank’s breath on your skin making you shiver and shift closer, held in place by his hold on your hips.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispered, his lips grazing your ear as he nipped below it.

He couldn’t see your eye roll, but he could hear the suspicion in your tone. “You can’t even see me.”

“Don’t need to,” he said, quickly pecking your cheek.

Rebuttals formed on your lips, but they were barely spoken into existence before Frank was kissing them away. You had learned months ago that arguing with him was futile, so you easily gave in to his touch. Proud of his effortless victory, he had to resist the urge to grin, instead humming a satisfied note as your lips parted for him.

He had grown confident and comfortable since you had knocked on his door, regaining his charming disposition. Easily, his tongue slipped against yours, rivaling his kisses from earlier. They were now equipped with a need—one to make you feel loved, to prove that this wasn’t out of sympathy. He glided his tongue in sure strokes, rubbing circles on your hips as he broke away. After one more tender kiss, a smile tugged at his lips.

“See?” he murmured, letting his fingertips dance along the waistband of your pajamas. “My pretty baby.”

Belief didn’t come easy, but you gave in nonetheless, too transfixed by his touch. Many nights, you had started absentmindedly at his hands, tracing his tattoos as an excuse to hold them, lacing your fingers together while he stood oblivious. God, they were so pretty, decorated in colorful ink and so fucking skilled. He’d invited you to a handful of shows, always pulling you to the front and showing off, and you had discovered that he was a wonderful guitarist–and that he had wonderful hands, ones that were finally on you.

“Is this—“ he asked, fingers creeping from your waist to the elastic of your pajamas. “Is that okay?”

You nodded, taking his hand again and sliding it lower, under the fabric, and further still.

He gave a small grin, slotting his lips against yours for a moment. “You’re so needy,” he purred, sucking gently on your jawline. “It’s okay, I’ll make you feel good.”

It was easier to believe him this time, and you whispered a quiet, “Please, Frank.”

He could never deny you, pressing his hand against your thigh. Sitting up for a moment, he caressed you tentatively, another “Can I...?” breaking the brief silence.

You nodded again, lifting your hips as he tugged down your pajama pants, and frowning as he pulled away. It didn’t last long though, Frank only letting you kick off your clothes before settling next to you. Again, he mumbled a request to touch you, and you grew warm as his hands ghosted your waist. Gently, he pulled you closer, settling you between his legs before tilting your chin to face him.

If you could see the way he looked at you, speechless and entranced despite the lack of light, you would’ve melted into the floor. He didn’t need to see you though, not when he knew how he felt, pressing his lips to yours as his free hand trailed up your thigh. A faint longing stirred in your stomach, and you burned up as the pads of his fingers met the hem of your panties.

“I’ve wanted this for a while, you know that?” he said quietly, stroking your clothed slit. “I thought I fucked it up for good.”

You let out a soft breath and shook your head. “You could never fuck up that bad.”

He gave a soft laugh, tracing shapes onto your thighs. “You’d be surprised.”

“Don’t make a habit of it,” you smiled, shifting closer to him.

Gradually, his hand slid further up, and he kept his head tucked into the crook of your neck, pressing spontaneous kisses below your ear. He cupped you gently, only seeming to worsen the dull ache, and he grinned as you pressed against his palm.

“Someone’s impatient,” he teased, rubbing slow circles on your clit.

He shushed you lightly as you began to apologize, planting another kiss on your neck. “I’m kidding,” he said, giving another laugh. “You’re always so sweet. I bet you taste sweet too.”

The last bit caught you off guard, drawing a soft moan from your lips. It urged Frank to continue, and he finally tugged off your panties. The sudden chill made you shiver but his hands warmed you up quick, splayed across your thighs as he spread them apart. Regardless, you pressed closer to him, receiving a sweet, “I’ve got you,” in response.

With delicate precision, his fingers swept across your folds, wet and needy as you waited for him to touch you. You were fixated on his every move, tilting your head back against his headboard as he brushed against your clit.

“You’re so wet,” he commented, his voice holding wonder rather than mockery. “So good to me.”

Frank was far more patient, carefully collecting arousal on his fingertips before lifting them to his lips, coating his tongue in bliss. You wished you could see it, watch as his fingers glistened in the moonlight, swiftly sucked clean with an erotic eagerness. Instead, you had to settle for his muffled moan and the praise that came with it.

“Fuck, you taste so pretty,” he breathed, his lips pressed against your ear again. “You want me to eat your pussy, baby?”

As much as you wanted it, you wanted his cock more, compromising more with yourself than Frank. “Tomorrow,” you requested, reaching for his hand and leading it between your legs.

“Yeah? What do you want right now?”

His fingers worked carefully, spreading you open before dipping inside. You had begun to respond, but simple words turned too complex, becoming a swift inhale and a shaky moan instead.

“I want you to fuck me,” you admitted, grinding down against his hand in hopes of finding friction. “Please.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” he teased, continuing to curl his fingers inside of you. “You can wait a minute, right?”

You bit back a no, making a half-hearted decision that you could be patient for him. “Mhm,” you hummed quietly, shifting against him.

He was hard, pressing against you through his sweatpants, but he was patient just like you. Truthfully, he wanted this to last as long as possible, just in case you walked away tomorrow. You didn’t mind too much, his fingers pulling pretty moans from you while your muscles grew tighter.

“You’re being so good, so patient,” he told you, his thumb ghosting your clit.

You whined softly at the praise, catching your bottom lip between your teeth as he spoke. “You sound so pretty, baby.”

Frank knew the effect he had on you, relishing in every gasp and moan as sweet affirmations rolled off his tongue. Typically, you’d be embarrassed that Frank knew what you were into, but now you were in his bed, and he was urging you to come.

“Does that feel good?” he asked, slowly speeding up as you writhed against him.

Again, you nodded, the hitch in your breath preventing a real answer. Frank didn’t seem to mind, only egging you on more. “You’re doing so well,” he said, toying with your clit as your breathing grew erratic.

“Shit, Frank,” you cursed, suddenly reaching for his hand. “I want to come with you inside me.”

Relief washed over him, and he swallowed the apologies that had already started forming. Instead, he swore against your skin and pulled his hand away, smiling softly at your ironic whine.

“God, you’re so fucking perfect,” he breathed, gasping lightly as your lips closed around his fingers, quickly cleaning up the mess.

Pulling his hand away, he held your jaw, turning your head towards him and giving you a slow kiss. It was messy and sensual, and Frank reluctantly broke apart to turn you around. Slipping his hands beneath your shirt, he ran them up your sides, his thumbs caressing your waist while you tugged off his sweatpants.

Frank was sure he’d been hard since you climbed into his bed, and now he was fucking aching to be touched. Thankfully, you didn’t waste as much time as him, hooking your arm around his neck and pressing heated kisses to his lips while you stroked him through his boxers. With as much coordination as he could manage, he reached towards his nightstand, giggling through kisses as he rifled through the drawer.

“Frank, take your pants off,” you grinned, shaking your head in bewilderment as you got off of his lap.

He giggled again, sliding off his boxers and kicking his pants to the floor, laying down anxiously as you grabbed a condom from his nightstand.

“See?” he said, humming softly as you wrapped your hand around his cock, pumping him slowly before rolling the condom on. “You’re so good to me.”

Your stomach fluttered at the praise, and you were impatient once more. After giving you a brief kiss, he lifted your hips, guiding you over his cock. You took him slowly, sinking your teeth into your lip while he eased you down. As much as you wanted to complain about the darkness of his bedroom, the sudden jerk of his hips drew your attention away. He was thick, fitting snug inside of you, and Frank moaned as you settled on his cock.

“You feel so fucking good,” he said, rocking his hips to meet yours as you sunk down on him again. “Squeezing my cock so well.”

He helped you build a steady pace, gripping your hips as they rolled against his. Even if you hadn’t fully adjusted to his size, the pain had faded, climbing towards your thighs instead. They’d inevitably burn from exertion when you were finished, but it didn’t seem like you had long to go, anyway. Not when Frank was moaning like that, hot and breathy, and gradually growing whinier.

“Fuck, just like that,” he said, sliding his hands under your thighs to keep pace.

After getting painfully close to coming earlier, the sensation had already begun building again. The thrust of his hips was no help to your longevity, whiny curses pouring from your lips as he fucked into you. He was a mess beneath you, hair clinging to his forehead and eyes drawn shut, intent on making you finish this time.

“You take me so well,” Frank praised, listening to you fall apart on his cock. “That’s it, baby.”

Satisfaction shot through him, grinning with pride as you came, still bouncing in his lap as you rode it out. Despite his confidence, he was far needier, holding you still as he ground against you. The tables turned for a moment, and you cupped his cheek delicately, gyrating your hips before murmuring a soft, “Good boy.”

There was an obvious shake in your voice, weak from an orgasm, but it made no difference to Frank. He didn’t think twice as he came, moaning brokenly before shooting into the rubber. With the little strength he had left, he helped you off his lap, letting you flop down beside him.

“Holy shit,” he mumbled, growing shy as his muscles went lax.

It was your turn to pepper kisses across his skin, catching your breath between sporadic pecks. There was a moment of silence before he spoke again, breathing heavily as he pulled you into his chest.

“I’m really sorry for the other day,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “I was serious when I said I should’ve kissed you. And if you were serious about not kissing me, then that’s cool too. I mean, it’s a little inconvenient because we just had sex, and now I’m totally on your track record but—“

You wheezed, “Track record? Jesus, Frank, I don’t do this every day.”

“Well you could start,” he said slyly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Unless, you know, you’re not into me like that—“

“Frank.”

He frowned. “What?”

“I am into you like that.”

His eyebrows drew together, confused. “You lied to me? Rough way to start a relationship, babe.”

You swatted him playfully. “Let’s have this conversation after we clean up. Deal?”

Even if you couldn’t see him in the dark, you could tell that he was smiling. “Deal.”

kinktober taglist: @clichedlovers  @halloweenbitch2764  @lubbockshusband @cigarettesandalcohol  @couldbegayer1234  @doc-martens-enthusiast @yachiiko @becausethedrugsneverwork @house-of-wh0res @dangerouslittlefairy @chronicallythicc​ @zggystrdst​

[eriquin]

Holiday Cookie Baking

I used to make tons of cookies for my extended family at Christmas, and then the pandemic happened and I wasn't going anywhere, so I stopped. Now, we're traveling again and I'm out of work so I'm baking.

Most of the recipes are from Smitten Kitchen, which I cannot recommend enough. Here's what I've got so far.

The first thing I made were Peanut Butter Cookies, a double batch. I only baked half of them, and the other half are frozen and unbaked so I can make them after Christmas, because they're my husband's favorite. They're amazing.

Next up are savoiardi, from my great aunt's recipe. I made a full batch. I didn't really need to make a full batch, but I did. They're light and fluffy and my kid loves them. They're the only recipe not from Smitten Kitchen.

The third one I've made today are homemade chocolate wafer cookies. I know the recipe page says something about icebox cupcakes but I don't bother with that. These are wafer thing chocolate cookies with a little crunch. I use black cocoa. They're like Oreos. I love them so much.

I have three more cookies on my list to make: seven-layer cookies, snickerdoodles, and almond biscotti. I'm hoping to have everything done by tomorrow. If I'm feeling really ambitious and can find freeze-dried fruit, I might make macarons... but I doubt it.

I'll post more pictures are things finish up.

[bxldrsdraumar]

The day has arrived! The sun is shining high in the sky, and the air is crisp. You go about your duties for the day, perhaps class or training, perhaps stopping into town for ingredients, or to buy your dish outright.

Eventually, you make your way to the dining hall to find it transformed - no longer the structure of the rows upon rows of benches, but you find they have been pushed together to form two long tables, bejeweled with flatware and beverages and many dishes already provided in a family-style arrangement. Strung - and, along some windows, half-strung - with shining garlands and tinsel and magical lights, the hosts appear to have really outdone themselves! Even the chef, who has worked so hard to prepare this feast, is making an appearance.

Making your way into the hall, your hosts greet you warmly with a goodie bag - some treats from home that they hope you will enjoy too. Just a little bit of Chalphy to take with you when you leave.

But there is tension in the air as you step in, as with any party - do you mingle, or flounder? Are you a social butterfly, or a wallflower? Worry not, friends - no matter your proclivities, your hosts have put together a traditional feast for the Bounty of the Crusader Baldr, and they flit about, working to ensure you have a wonderful evening.

So How Does This Work?

Welcome one and all to the first annual Baldr's Bounty feast! From 02 December to 10 December, Sigurd and Ethlyn will be hosting a traditional Chalphy Harvest Feast, and they've invited you.

To all who responded to the interest check, check your inbox, as your hosts have a gift for you, and would you please find your seat at the table here - your hosts have worked together to ensure that those you are seated with will provide maximum entertainment.

From there, the world is your oyster! Feel free to mingle with the other guests, share the kitchens with those who may or may not know what they're doing, or huddle in the corner and just wait for dinner to be served. You might even poke at your hosts as they're dashing about!

If you'd like a little direction, you can check out the prompts that we've prepared for you, underneath the cut.

FOOD AND DRINK

Fruitcake - Every culture, it seems, has their own tradition of a dense, sweet cake studded with dried fruits and nuts (and maybe soaked in liquor for a true holiday treat). Some share their family's recipes, while others revile the things - where do you stand when a friend asks you to try theirs?

Mulled Wine and Hot Cocoa - They say there’s nothing like sharing a warm drink by the fire the shake off any holiday ennui you might have. So grab a mug and a buddy, and toast to the quiet moments.

Cookie Decorating - Cookies and biscuits of all shapes and sizes, fresh from the oven and ready for your own artistic flair. Will you make a custom tableau in gingerbread and royal icing, or dot shortbread with chocolate kisses, or smoosh jam into a linzer? Careful not to make too much of a mess!

Sharing the Kitchen - Ready to show off your own culinary prowess with a dish from your homeland? Or lend a helping hand while someone else makes theirs? Or are you nosy beyond belief and looking for scraps before the main event?

ACTIVITIES

Decorations - Tinsel, garlands of popcorn-and-cranberries, and wreaths and cornucopias galore - what’s a party without decorations? Help the hosts with some last minute sprucing up, or make a decoration of your own to liven up your dorm.

Hand-imals - Proud parents in the Duchy of Chalphy happily display their children's handprints decorated to look like animals (such as turkeys, reindeer, or others!) this time of year on their iceboxes. With the large array of art supplies provided, can you create a masterpiece worthy of such an honor?

Opening Crackers - Inside your goodie bag is a holiday popper, a fun gimmick from the families of Chalphy. Simply have someone else hang onto the other side and tug - ! to reveal the treats inside. Will you get to wear the shining paper crown in victory, or will someone else steal your precious treats?

Thankful - A Chalphy tradition after a harvest is to thank the earth for its bounty, the Crusaders for their blessing, and for one’s loved ones for their presence. Why not get a little festive (and potentially cheesy) and tell someone exactly what they mean to you?

Bonfire - What better way to wait for the main event than by lighting a bonfire? Help each other lug some lumber to set ablaze, and show off your fancy footwork with its warmth at your back. Grab a partner and get to swingin’!

LOCATIONS

Seat Swap! - Were you seated too far away from the object of your affections, or the only other person you know at this shindig? Too close to your mortal enemy? The nerve! Maybe you can find someone to switch seats with you, voluntarily or not.

Throwing the Pigskin - Take it outside! Waiting for the food to be prepared is boring! Grab a friend, head outside, and toss an almond shaped ball back and forth to kill some time and let off some energy. Don't get too rowdy!

Punch Bowl - A haven for the less socially-inclined, you can gather around the proverbial water cooler and make awkward eye contact until someone drags you off to have fun. Unless of course the more mischief-minded decide to slip a little something in there to lighten things up?

Doorways: Decorating each doorway is a sprig of fresh mistletoe. Rumor has it that it's a Chalphy tradition for two people to share a kiss if they are caught under it together. You wouldn't deny the tradition of your hosts, would you?

Luminary Trail: Just outside of the party is a path lit by luminaries. It's a perfect place to get some fresh air or escape from the hustle and bustle for a moment. Make sure to watch where you are walking. Those paper bags look pretty flammable!

[murdermepeacefully]

Stormy Lullaby

Brahms hates when it storms, it's so loud in the walls and it's not good noise like his music or someone reading aloud to him.

So he does the only thing he can think of, and goes to his nanny’s room, thinking it will help him feel less overwhelmed.

Too bad she’s a light sleeper.

Canon- Divergent/AU to the movie.

He’d hoped she’d been wrong. Listening to her that morning as she ate breakfast, she’d made a comment that they might need to change the schedule a little, checking the traps outside before his lesson, that it looked like a storm was coming and she’d rather they not get caught in that.

She’d smiled though, and added that if they did that they’d be okay- she’d get him nice and warm, and in dry clothes, and once she’d done the same herself she’d make them hot cocoa and they could sit together and she’d read to him more than usual, because rainy days were meant for curling up with a warm drink and a good book. What would be better than sharing that with him?

Then she’d paused, like she always did, as if waiting for him to reply- she’d done that from the start, it’s one of the things that had warmed him to her so quickly. Sometimes he mouths replies in the walls, soft enough she won’t hear but loud enough he’ll feel like he’s talking to her.

He does so now, a soft whisper that no, routine was best, and storms were the worst.

She seems to get her answer, or at least pretends she does, nodding with a soft hum and tucking a lock of her bright colored hair behind her ear. “Staying close to the routine it is, then. I know it’s quite important to you, and I’d hate to change it without your approval, especially so suddenly.”

She was so sweet, to ask- to act as if he’d replied and she’d heard him, and to know how he would have answered, how he did answer- that the routine was a routine for a reason, and she’d yet to break a rule or change it yet.

But he hoped she was wrong, and that there’d be no storm. He hated storms- he always had, but it was worse after what happened.

It was far louder in the walls when it stormed.

She was right, of course. It didn’t start off too bad- a little drizzle as she was heading back in with the doll and the bag of rats, causing her to speed up to a slight jog to get inside before it got worse, sliding off her shoes at the door and hanging the coats up before carrying him upstairs in her socks.

She kept her word, making sure he was in dry clothes and so was she. Pausing in her room, digging in the trunk where she’d started storing the blankets she knit at night to find one that hadn’t gone ‘missing’. That was his fault, they were warm and soft and a part of her, he had more than one on his bed even now. He didn’t know what she thought about it- she’d never said anything, simply knit more.

With that and the doll in tow, she breaks one rule- just a touch, not enough to anger him. She settles the doll under the blanket on the couch, giving a promise to ‘be right back, doudou’ before she goes to the kitchen, making the hot chocolate she’d mentioned and adding a plate of cookies- though he notices she leaves a second mug and plate of cookies in the kitchen.

He waits to see if she returns, but she doesn’t, her voice drifting through the house as she begins to read. She was always so good at projecting her voice without losing that gentle softness, making it easy for him to hear her even without the tubes in the walls.

She won’t notice- she has no reason to. Who’s to say she’ll even know the mug is gone, or question it when the plate is returned to the icebox? It will simply be another among dozens, after all.

So he slips out of the pantry and takes the mug and cookies, quickly returning to the walls and moving as close as he can to the living room, where she’s now curled up under the blanket with the doll held close, reading with occasional pauses to sip her drink or take a bite of her cookies.

It’s nice, in a way. Like they’re having a snack together- her on the couch, and him in the walls.

Maybe next time he’ll be on the couch with her.

He can only hope.

--

The storm only worsens as the night goes on, and by bedtime, it’s raging. It’s enough that he’s restless, even back in his bedroom- but it seems his nanny doesn’t have the same dilemma- he hasn’t heard her moving about in a while.

It seems safe enough, he thinks- the storm doing one good thing by covering for him moving through the walls to where a panel opens into her room.

It’s dark, only the flashes of lightning illuminating the room- and her figure under the blankets, chest softly raising and falling with her breathing. With that confirmed, he slowly eases the panel open and steps into the room, shutting it behind him and moving to sit on the floor against her bed- he wants to lay next to her, to be held like she holds the doll- but he knows he can’t.

What he can do is tug the blanket she’d brought back and folded at the bottom of the bed off, wrapping it around himself- though he freezes when she shifts, one hand limply dangling off the side of the bed right by him.

He stares for a moment- long enough to insure she’s still asleep- before he moves to lace his fingers with hers- her hand looks so small, so delicate next to his. She’s always seemed tinier, but to compare so closely- 

His thoughts are cut off when her hand shifts, tightening ever so slightly- as if she’s tightening her grip on him. But no, a look confirms her eyes are still closed, her breathing still even- she’s still asleep.

He’s safe to rest, at least for the night.

--

She’s not asleep.

She’s merely a skilled pretender, aware of how to keep her breathing even and gentle, her eyes closed with just a sliver of sight through her lashes- and she’s grown familiar with all the usual creaks and groans of the walls.

But even the storm doesn’t fully cover the sound of footsteps, not this close to the wall- but she doesn’t show it.

She senses someone walk to her bed, and still she pretends.

She hears them take a seat on the floor, and still she pretends.

She feels them pull the blanket she’d knit from the end of the bed, and still she pretends- though not quite as well, the thought clicking in her head that whoever this is, it’s the same person who has been stealing those blankets since she arrived. One mystery solved.

And so, she does something reckless, and dangerous- allowing her hand to dangle off the side of the bed, hiding it as simply shifting in her sleep, to see what they’ll do.

She half expects them to grab her wrist and pull her down to the floor, but instead feels a hesitant touch, the soft lacing of fingers- they’re holding her hand. It’s gentle, and innocent- or at least, it seems that way.

So she does what she hopes is right- and she tightens her grip just enough to show she’s there, and she’s holding their hand, and everything is ok.

She can worry about what this means in the morning, in the sunlight.

Stormy nights are best spent with others, after all.

[asimplecomfort]

Today's comfort: icebox cakes

I feel like it's easy to think "I can't bake" and then... not bake. But fear not, icebox cakes are basically the simplest recipe ever! And then tomorrow you'll have a treat waiting for future you!

Here's all you need:

Some kind of dry cookie (graham crackers, Oreo cookies without the filling, Nabisco wafers are all classics, but as long as it's a dry cookie you're golden)

Whipped cream

A container to put it in

A fridge

Time

That's it at its core. You get a container, make some whipped cream (whip heavy cream to soft peaks, with or without sugar), put some in the container, layer it with some of the cookies, repeat until you're happy, then wait 3+ hours or overnight depending on the cookie. 

You can definitely go fancy though! Trifles with cake, jam, fruit, and custard are effectively an icebox cake. I like making cocoa whipped cream and throwing in some nibs for crunch. The world is your icebox cake!

And for vegans and lactose intolerant folks, I have made this with coconut whipped cream! It can take a bit longer to set but it's still plenty tasty.

[jamskills]

The Importance of Timely Furnace Repairs for a Cosy Winter

Winter is just around the corner, and there's nothing quite like curling up with a warm cup of cocoa in a cosy home while the snow falls outside. But what happens when your trusty furnace decides to take an unscheduled vacation right in the middle of a chilly night? This is where the importance of timely furnace repair South Shore MA truly shines. In this article, we'll explore why staying on top of your furnace's health can make all the difference between a snug winter wonderland and a frosty indoor fiasco.

The Silent Champion

Ah, the furnace – the unsung hero of winter. It quietly labours in the background, pumping out warmth and ensuring your abode remains a haven from the cold. But just like any hero, even the furnace can stumble. 

Components wear out, parts get tired, and before you know it, you're shivering under a blanket, wondering what went wrong.

Furnace repair isn't just about fixing what's broken; it's about preserving this silent champion's ability to keep you warm. Regular maintenance and timely repairs can extend your furnace's lifespan, saving you from the expense of a premature replacement.

Energy Efficiency Matters

In an age where energy efficiency is more than just a buzzword, a well-maintained furnace can be your wallet's best friend. When your furnace isn't working optimally, it guzzles up more energy to produce the same amount of heat. 

This not only translates to higher utility bills but also contributes to unnecessary strain on precious resources.

By addressing furnace repair South Shore MA needs promptly, you're ensuring that your heating system operates efficiently. This means not only a cosier winter but also a greener one, as you reduce your carbon footprint without sacrificing comfort.

Don't Invite Chilly Guests

A malfunctioning furnace doesn't discriminate. It can decide to give up the ghost at the most inconvenient times, leaving you and your loved ones in the cold. 

Imagine hosting a winter get-together, only to have your heating system throw in the towel. Suddenly, your home resembles more of an icebox than a warm gathering spot.

Prioritising furnace repair means avoiding these awkward and uncomfortable situations. Regular inspections catch issues before they escalate, ensuring that your furnace doesn't pull a disappearing act when you need it the most.

The Safety

Your furnace isn't just about comfort – it's also about safety. Furnaces that aren't well-maintained can pose risks beyond just chilly toes. From carbon monoxide leaks to fire hazards, a neglected heating system can turn your cosy haven into a danger zone.

Timely furnace repair isn't just about warmth; it's about safeguarding your home and your family. Professionals can identify and address potential safety concerns, giving you peace of mind as you bask in your winter retreat.

Nip Problems in the Bud

We all know that strange noises, erratic behaviour, and unusual odours from your furnace are more than just quirky personality traits. They're warning signs – cries for help, if you will. Ignoring these red flags can lead to bigger issues down the line, not to mention more extensive and expensive repairs.

Furnace repair isn't something to procrastinate on. It's the proactive step that saves you from major headaches and wallet-draining bills later on. So, the next time your furnace emits an odd squeak or starts performing interpretive dances, don't just chalk it up to its artistic side – call in the professionals.

In Conclusion

As the cold winds begin to howl, your furnace stands as your first line of defence against winter's chill. Ensuring that it's in tip-top shape through timely furnace repair South Shore MA is an investment in comfort, safety, and your peace of mind. 

So, before you settle in for a season of hot cocoa and snowflakes, make sure your furnace is ready to keep the cold at bay. After all, a cosy winter starts with a well-loved and well-repaired furnace.

Source From: The Importance of Timely Furnace Repairs for a Cosy Winter

[tobylerohn]

Chocolate Coconut Macaroons

Original recipe by Lauren Miyashiro. Find her recipe at Tasty, here.

When you just can't have any more matzo (even if it is this amazing matzo icebox cake), make these gluten-free coconut macaroons. Dipping them in chocolate is "optional" but really, why wouldn't you?  P.S. Around March or April, this recipe isn't just the perfect dessert for Passover Seder. It's an amazing Easter brunch treat, too! 

Ingredients:

Cooking spray

3 large egg whites

2/3 cups granulated sugar

1/2 tsp. pure vanilla extract

Pinch kosher salt

5 cups sweetened shredded coconut ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

1/4 cups unsweetened cocoa powder

1 1/2 cups chocolate chips, melted, divided

1 tbsp. coconut oil

Instructions:

Preheat oven to 350° and line two large baking sheets with parchment paper and grease with cooking spray.

In a large bowl, whisk together egg whites, sugar, vanilla, and salt until the mixture is light and foamy. Fold in cocoa, one-third the melted chocolate, and shredded coconut until evenly combined.

Using a medium cookie scoop or a tablespoon, scoop evenly sized mounds onto prepared baking sheet. Bake for 25 minutes, then let cool completely on baking sheets. 

In a medium bowl, whisk together remaining melted. chocolate and oil until smooth. Dip the bottoms of cooled macaroons in chocolate mixture, then drizzle the tops with remaining mixture.

These macaroons can be made without chocolate! Simply do not use the ingredients below the dotted line, and do not add cocoa, chocolate, or perform step 4.

[fiction-quotes]

Winter tightened our heads with a band of cold and melted our eyes. We put pepper in the feet of our stockings, Vaseline on our faces, and stared through dark icebox mornings at four stewed prunes, slippery lumps of oatmeal, and cocoa with a roof of skin.

  —  The Bluest Eye (Toni Morrison)  

[foodies22]

[bakedtodeath]

I miss doing this so badly... hopefully soon I’ll have a job that might even compare :/

[hoardingrecipes]

Oreo Chocolate Cheesecake Icebox Cake