#Advent is COOKED

[ket-shee]

SPARKY!!!

Been thinking about XCOM lately and played some yesterday and this morning, I got development done on SPARKs which means that I got to make SPARKY T-100. I hear good things about SPARK units. And 11 HP with 1 Armor is incredibly strong at level 1. I know some of their abilities are really useful and iirc they're fully immune to psionics, fire and poison damage.

I did my second retaliation mission also and those dark events are a pain in my ass but y'know what. I'm kinda a fan of how this games difficulty goes. I'm doing some development and research before I do the first blacksite mission. I think that'll maybe delay the AVATAR progress. Which is currently sitting at about 5? A little scary, would be scarier if I didn't double the length of it lol

[sibmakesart]

AVENT CALENDAR DAY 10 ✨

[dribs-and-drabbles]

The Thai Communal Wardrobe item #196

Cooking Crush ep 1:

Knock Knock Boys! ep 7:

for @distant-screaming 💙

[gumm7sharks]

Advent Calendar?

Heya FNAF fandom! How would you all feel about a themed, written advent calendar this year. 👀

More information at 7pm PST ^_^

[renegadeem]

Band!AU encore!!!

Bahamut SIN, latest single from AVALANCHE.

[gachacatt]

On the sixth day of Christmas, a monster gave to me! Six Devils cooking! 🔥

[braverxchaos]

It would be so incredible to hear these voices again! Not only in Crisis Core Reunion, but in all of the other Final Fantasy VII Remake games as well. I really hope that all of us fans can band together and show Square Enix that we would like to hear both the new voice actors as well as the Legacy Cast.

I can't help not to think of Rick Gomez as Zack Fair. Just like I can't help not to hear Steve Burton as Cloud Strife and George Newbern as Sephiroth. Also, Rachael Leigh Cook as Tifa Lockhart and Steve Blum as Vincent Valentine. These are the voices I grew up with listening to as I played Crisis Core and Dirge Of Cerberus. And fell in love with watching in Advent Children.

We need a DLC! The option to choose which Cast to use during gameplay would be so nice to have!

[blee-bleep]

Nerissa's gay rizz has me swooning, jfc

[stokesy55]

Advent 2024 - Day 4: Christmas on the ICU

Past Christmas trauma, a new guy at work who's an arrogant arse and a meddling best friend who thinks he knows best. It's certainly going to be an interesting festive season for Dr Stokes.

Ben Stokes/Jos Buttler [mentions of Joe Root/Alastair Cook]

Dedication: @ginerva-mollyweasley

[neyswxrld]

the cherry on top

Waxer x reader (gn)

warnings: reader has a really bad day, some mean comments

word count: ~820

advent calendar masterlist

a/n: this is the sixth fic for my advent calendar!

p.s. english isn't my mother tongue, sorry for misspellings! 

Today was the worst day of your life. Ever.

It all started when you overslept and had to rush through your morning routine. You didn't even have enough time to eat your breakfast or give Waxer a goodbye kiss. Instead, you were running down the streets, trying to start work on time.

As if that wasn't enough, just as you were about to run around the last corner that separated you from your destination, you tripped over something and fell on the ground, directly into a cold puddle. You were covered in mud from head to toe.

But you knew yourself and your clumsiness well enough to have some extra clothes at your workstation. It wouldn't be a problem.

Hah! You thought so. Turns out, with all the hustle and bustle, you forgot your keys.

You were wet and dirty, and the cold winter air didn't make anything better. You felt miserable and were freezing.

Just as you wanted to just give up and go home again, you heard someone calling your name.

"What are you waiting for? Avoiding work?" The high-pitched voice of your least favorite coworker broke your loneliness as she stepped closer, putting her key into the keyhole of the door. "You look like trash," she commented, but you try to ignore her.

"Forgot my keys. Thanks," you mutter, ignoring her mean comment, stepping in and stumbling to the elevator.

And that was just the morning. The rest of the day wasn't really getting better.

After some more mean comments from your coworker and your forgotten lunch, your computer suddenly stopped working. So you had to do the boring work.

The time passes too slowly, but when you finally can go, you pack all of your things and almost run home.

Just when you're right in front of the door and want to open it, you realize that you not only forgot your work keys but your whole keychain.

In addition to that, all the lights are off. Waxer isn't home.

With a glance at the calendar on your phone, you realize that today is the day when he comes home late. He wouldn't be here for another few hours.

You couldn't take it anymore.

Frustrated, you let yourself fall on the stairs. You pull your legs to your body, hug them with your arms, and bury your face in your knees.

You feel a familiar pressure behind your eyes, and after some seconds, you give up and allow the tears to leave your eyes.

The weather is windy, you start to freeze again, and you just can't help but hope that the cold stairs beneath you won't give you cystitis.

While you sit there crying, you don't even hear footsteps coming closer.

Only when warm hands settle on the sides of your knees, you notice that someone is here.

Startled, you look up, directly into the brown eyes of your love. He is kneeling in front of you, looking worried.

"Waxer!" you cry out, relieved. You jump into his arms, almost tackling him to the ground.

"What are you doing here? I thought you're working late," you mumble, squeezing him tight.

"I wanted to surprise you," he says, stroking your back slightly. "I wanted to cook for you and make us a sweet evening, but I was stopped at work several times," he explains further, pushing you back a bit to wipe your tears away.

"Come on, you're shaking. Let's get in, and then you can tell me what has got you so upset, okay?" he suggests, already pulling you up.

You nod, and while he is opening the door and helping you out of your jacket and boots, you tell him about your bad day.

Waxer listens carefully, nods, and sometimes comments. When you finish, you already feel better.

"What about that: You go shower and warm up, and while you do that, I'll cook us something nice, eh?" he proposes again, and the hungry rumble of your stomach provides the answer.

"Yes, please. I'm starving," you agree additionally.

About half an hour later, you're showered, smell good again, and feel warm. As you walk into the kitchen, you see Waxer standing on the stove with your grandma's apron around his neck. He's stirring something in a pot, and everything smells delicious.

You come up behind him and lay your face on his bag and hug him.

"You okay?" he asks quietly, laying his free hand on top of yours.

"Yeah. Now I am," you whisper, enjoying the way he slowly starts to sway from left to right while cooking.

Waxer is the best thing that happened to you today, but that isn't a surprise.

Waxer is great, handsome. He knows what you need, usually before you even know it, and is there for you when you need him.

He's always the cherry on top for you, and you enjoy every second you have with him.

TAGLIST:

@isthereanechoinhere96

[earlgreytea68]

Advent Drabble 9 - Cooking

For anonymous.

“I think we can do it,” Pete says confidently.

Pete thinks they can do anything. Maybe being a big-deal band on the cover of Rolling Stone is something they can do, but definitely not this.

“No,” Patrick says. “I am willing to believe you in many circumstances. But we are not doing this. We are not capable of doing this. Neither one of us knows how to make pasta.”

“I don’t think it’s actually hard. I think you just—”

Patrick, however, is fond of the apartment not being burned down. “No,” he says again. “We order pizza like usual.”

[dribs-and-drabbles]

The Thai Communal Wardrobe item #228

Cooking Crush ep 9:

Knock Knock Boys! ep 7:

Monster Next Door ep 5:

for @twig-tea 💙

[randomlythings]

Advent Calendar 2024 - Day 4

Made with Canva I won’t collapse, even though yesterday’s post didn’t get likes immediately. There can be many reasons, which doesn’t necessarily mean it was terrible. I’m good at keeping it together. There are worse things in the world than no one liking something. Despite being active on social media, I don’t get many likes and even less comments. But I post anyway. Sometimes, people find old…

[homesteadsissies]

Weekly Update: 12.30.23

There are many fitting jokes that circulate this time of year. With the rest of the world, we've eaten too much candy, played too many board games, and struggled to keep track of which day it is.

Almighty God, you have given your only-begotten Son to take our nature upon him, and to be born of a pure virgin: Grant that we, who have been born again and made your children by adoption and grace, may daily be renewed by your Holy Spirit; through Jesus Christ our Lord, to whom with you and the same Spirit be honor and glory, now and for ever. Amen. The Collect for Christmas Day — The Book of…

[braverxchaos]

Such an awesome edit that I found on Twitter!! Posted by Demiana

I wish and hope each and every day that we are one step closer to finally getting a DLC that includes the Legacy Voice Cast while not replacing the new cast.

All of the Voice actors are amazingly talented and are both equally deserving of an opportunity to voice the characters in the Final Fantasy VII Remake Games.

If you are interested in seeing something like this happen, please take a look at our petition. Together maybe we can make it happen!

[parfaitblogs]

i have more than enough ❀ s. reid x reader

in which the holiday season is achingly difficult to get through, when you are spencer reid, who believes he is no longer allowed to enjoy them. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: hurt/comfort tags: established relationship. post prison!reid. word count: 2k a/n: and for my final act? the parfaitblogs special (post prison reid fic to a searows song). merry christmas from australia because it IS the 25th here!!! this is the end of my christmas advent calendar!! i had soo much fun writing these stories thank you to all that requested ♡

❄︎ advent calendar masterlist

He does not deserve a Christmas. 

Perhaps that is the only thing that runs through Spencer Reid's mind the second the Halloween decor filtered out of the stores, reindeer mugs entered them; while candy canes and Santa hats adorned every little item, and Christmas trees lit up every corner of every mall.

No matter what state he traveled to, he couldn't escape the festivities of the holiday season. He's pretty sure he's the only person who wants to. 

You waited for him. He feels immensely guilty for just how much waiting you've had to do all year. Waiting for him to go to trial, waiting for him to get out of prison, waiting for him to let you in again. 

Waiting, waiting, waiting.

You're waiting again. A Christmas tree that blandly sits empty and undecorated in the corner of your shared apartment; a Christmas roast you aren't sure if you'll even cook takes up too much space in your fridge; gingerbread cookies you promised your friends weeks ago remaining unbaked. 

He knew you were upset about it. His Christmas loving girlfriend forced to mute the celebrations of her favourite holiday because he couldn't find it in him to be excited about it. 

He didn't know how to fix it, really. 

You had tried everything to get him back into the Christmas spirit he's had for the past three years you've spent together. Baking with him, picking out the very Christmas tree that leaves the room smelling like a pine forest together, Christmas shopping for the presents he had no will to buy for his family and friends. 

Nothing had worked. 

"Spence?"

Sitting awkwardly at his — now — very minimally decorated desk, his head lifts from the papers in front of him, eyebrows frowning towards each other as his eyes land on you.

"Hi," he murmurs, putting the pen in his hand down in an effort to give you his full attention. He was getting better at that, these days. 

"I finished dinner," you tell him, fingers fidgeting with one another; a recent habit he had noticed you'd developed in the months between his arrest and release. "If you want to come eat."

He doesn't, but then again, he never does. And despite how awful he feels, he feels even more so for what he's putting you through, and the guilt that chews away at him is enough to will him to do small things — like eating — for you. 

"Yeah," he breathes out, and stands up from the desk, following you silently over to the meal sitting at the edge of the kitchen bench you had cooked for the two of you.

Silence overwhelmed you two as you ate, as it usually does. Sitting curled up beside one another on the couch, sharing a blanket and yet still feeling so distant from each other regardless. 

"Did you call your mom?" you ask him, and his fork pauses in the plate. 

Right. It's Christmas. The time for calling family members and sharing love for them during this supposed to be joyous time. 

"Not yet," he shakes his head. "I'll... get to it. Before Christmas is over."

"You have a week," you remind him, though it isn't to be passive aggressive at all. You genuinely wonder if he's forgotten the date of Christmas that has quickly crept up on you both.

"I know."

You stare silently at the coffee table after a short nod to his words, and you wrack your brain for things to say, just to keep him talking.

"Can I give you your gift before Christmas day?" 

He lifts his head, and you feel his eyes transfix on you.

"If you want."

You want him to want it too, but you aren't sure if that's a reasonable wish anymore. 

"I do," you nod, and quickly finish up your food, before you stand, and leave the room altogether. 

He places his plate next to yours on the coffee table — he'd remember to get to cleaning those later — just as you return, a square shaped brown paper gift in your hands, a purple ribbon tied in a bow around it. 

"You got me a square?" he asks you, and your heart warms at the teasing tone in his voice. He's trying. 

"Open it," you press, instinctively shaking his shoulder with both hands pressed up against it. 

"Okay, okay."

He's meticulous in pulling the plain wrapping paper off, and you almost want to open the gift for him. 

"Did you make this?" he asks you as he carefully pulls the square apart in front of your eyes, though he does already know the answer before you have a chance to start nodding your head. 

A Victorian Puzzle Purse situates delicately in his hands. Hands that pull it apart ever so slowly, taking note of every little drawn and painted detail on the paper, opening it up to a letter that he spent two minutes reading through — confirming that he was not only reading it once through. 

"Do you like it?" you ask him, almost hesitantly. 

"Victorian Puzzle Purse's were how lovers would communicate for Valentine's day," he says, instead of answering your question directly, as he neatly folds it back up into the intricate origami square it was originally when he pulled it out. "Sorry," he quickly adds, his eyes landing back on you. "That wasn't an answer. I do. I like it a lot."

"I know it isn't much, but I don't want to overwhelm you with gifts this Christmas. I'm honestly not even expecting anything big. We can just order food in and watch movies or something this year, if you'd prefer. You just have to promise me you'll at least let me put mistletoe up outside our bedroom, because it's kind of become tradition and... sorry."

He's staring at you, half dumbfounded, half in awe, as you realise you were rambling instead of sitting in the moment of him enjoying something seasonal, but you can't even find it within yourself to be frustrated at it. For he is letting a small smile grace his lips, and you're leaning forwards with a smile of your own, and for a second or more, he is not the shattered prison man, and you are not his distanced girlfriend. 

"You can put mistletoe outside our bedroom," he says, and you're breaking into an even wider grin.

"Really?"

"It's tradition."

You light up enough for there to be no need for a decorated Christmas tree in your apartment anymore, and you're threading your fingers through his hand to drag him up off the couch. 

Your gift to him remains on the coffee table as you lead him over to your bedroom door, prompting him to stay still, as you disappear to find the piece of familiar fake greenery. 

"Mistletoe!" you present it to him, and he takes it from you habitually, using the pin you also hand him and pinning it above your heads on the doorframe.

"I think we need to buy a new one," he says, hands dropping back by his side. His eyes are trained on you, but your own head is still tilted back, inspecting the faux plant. 

"I think we need to buy a real one," you answer conclusively, finally dropping your gaze to him. 

"Next year," he confirms. "Tradition complete?"

You shake your head. "The tradition ends with a kiss."

Hesitation follows your words, and you instantly regret them. 

It wasn't that you didn't kiss, or weren't intimate in any way. It's simply that it was on occasion now, and almost always motivated by something more important than a silly mistletoe tradition.

"It's okay," you cover your unwelcome disappointment with a smile. 

He ignores your reassurance. "It does end in a kiss, you're right."

"But we don't have to," you mumble.

"Yes," his hands encase your waist to do nothing more than to pull you closer to him. "We do."

"Not if you don't want to."

"Did I say that?"

You open your lips to respond, but the words die on your tongue. 

"What did I do to make you think I don't want to kiss you, angel?" he's frowning now, and you feel guilt settle in your chest. 

"Nothing, really. We just—um—don't kiss... as much. Anymore. Which is fine, by the way, and I can understand it. You're under no moral obligation to kiss me. Obviously."

His frown deepens. "I think we're experiencing a bout of miscommunication."

"What?"

"I thought you didn't want to kiss me," he explains, and suddenly, you're mirroring the confusion on his face. 

"Why would I not want to kiss you?" you ask him, incredulously. 

His shoulders slump at the question, and you force yourself not to fill the silence that follows.

"Prison," he replies, quietly. "I didn't think you'd really even want me once I got out of prison. You don't initiate anything anymore, either. I just assumed."

"I didn't initiate anything because I was waiting for you to initiate stuff."

"I can see that now."

"I didn't want to rush you," you tell him, as earnestly as possible. "I know prison was a lot, and you still haven't told me everything that happened, but I wanted you to not rush yourself. Or... us, I guess."

He swallows the lump of emotion that lodges in his throat. "I thought you were disappointed in me. Or—well, scared of me."

"No," your heart shatters, and you're sure he can hear it in your voice as your hands instantly cup his cheeks, fingers brushing over his cheekbones. "No, oh my God, Spencer."

"You shouldn't use the lord's name in vain. It's Christmas," he jokes, weakly. The smile you give him is weak, too.

"I was terrified for you. I was so worried about you in prison, and—and what they were doing to you in there. But never of you. Not a single part of me will ever be scared of you, sweet boy."

"I'm scared of me," he whispers, and his voice cracks in a way that has tears welling in your eyes. "I think differently, you know."

"And that automatically means I should be scared of you? Or makes you any less deserving of love?"

His silence is enough of a response. 

"I love you," you settle on telling him. "No matter what baggage you came back to me with. You deserve so much love, and I hate that you have been through so much. So much so that you believe yourself undeserving. You are not. You never will be. I will spend the rest of my life proving that to you, if I must. Or as long as you will let me."

"Forever," he replies, and you feel his hands close over your own on his face. "I will let you forever."

"Thank God. It'd be kind of embarrassing if I say all this and then you were to break up with me tomorrow," you say, and his cheeks stretch beneath your hands as he huffs a laugh.

"I won't break up with you."

"I wouldn't let you, anyways."

"Oh really?" his hands slide down to your waist once more. 

"Yeah," you confirm with a small nod, your own hands dropping to his neck, interlacing behind it, as you draw his head closer to yours. "You're stuck with me."

"I have not a word of complaint," he replies, and he's close enough that you feel the words tattoo your lips. "I love you."

And then he's kissing you, and there is an overwhelming amount of neglected feelings you had been missing poured into you, from his soul to yours. 

It was a kiss so unlike what you had grown used to in recent months. Fingers dug into your waist as a violent reminder of what you mean to him, and for the first time since May, you believed it. 

When he goes to pull away, you barely give him time to get air before you're chasing his lips again, and he tugs you impossibly closer with a laugh that vibrates against your face. 

You kiss him until your hands go numb behind his neck, and your legs begin to ache, and your waist is sure to have bruised in the shapes of his fingertips. Chest heaving and eyes full of more adoration than you think one human can have for another, you meet his gaze once more.

"Tradition complete."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡