#Christmas stories

[atomic-chronoscaph]

The Ghost of Christmas Present and The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come - art by John Leech (1843)

[stone-cold-groove]

Front cover of the children’s book, Christmas Magic - 1942.

[chibistarlyte]

every year on christmas eve, my boyfriend and i go over to his paternal grandparents' house and the whole family gathers and exchanges gifts and eats dinner, you know, the usual. and as the years have passed, his grandma's level of patience has dwindled as the family has grown.

so a couple years ago, after a few hours of visiting and eating and opening presents, she was tired of socializing and wanted everyone to go, so she announced to the whole room, "i've enjoyed about as much of you people as i can stand" and made everyone leave

i can't think of a holiday moment more iconic than that

[adventuresofalgy]

Algy was resting quietly near the edge of the forest, preparing to set off in search of his way home, when a large post bird swept into sight, flew around and around over Algy's head, and then dropped a book at his feet before flying off to make its next delivery.

Slightly taken aback, for he had no idea that anyone knew where he was, Algy picked up the book and found that it was his very own children's book, The Magical Midwinter Star, which had just been reissued in paperback with a new cover design.

Algy was fond of this story, especially at this time of year, for it reminded him of his difficult and sometimes dangerous quest to bring light and joy back to the darkness in his very first northern winter, years ago… He recalled the song, sung by a choir of tiny mice, that he had heard on the edge of just such a forest as this one, and the beautiful, magical star he had seen at that time:

By the light of the Midwinter Star, All the creatures would come from afar: To the trees that were green When all others were bare, And they picked out the prettiest Tree that was there, By the light of that magical star. By the light of the Midwinter Star, All the creatures would come from afar: With soft wool and shells And bright things they had found, They dressed the green tree Where it stood in the ground, By the light of that magical star. They dressed up that tree Till it glittered so bright That the birds and the animals Sang with delight, Then they all danced around it Throughout the long night, As the star shone above them So sparkling and white. If you travelled the world Just as far as you might, You never could see A more marvellous sight Than the dance of the forest On Midwinter Night, By the light of that magical star.

His discovery of the strange shiny objects in a rock pool, and his search in the depths of the Highland winter for a suitable tree to hang them on, had been quite an adventure! And it had very nearly ended in disaster… but happily, all was well in the end 😀

So Algy was delighted that the full story was available in paperback again, for it meant that if any of his friends around the world would like to read the story – or give the book to a child (or adult still young at heart!) – they would now be able to do so…

In order to make the book available to Algy's friends in many different countries around the world, it was necessary to use Amazon, and Algy apologises to those who would prefer to buy books elsewhere.

The Magical Midwinter Star – and Algy's other two titles in his series of illustrated children's chapter books Tales from the Adventures of Algy – can be bought from Amazon in most countries, in both paperback and Kindle ebook formats.

[zeldaelmo]

I wrote a lot of Christmas and winter-themed stories over the past few years, so I thought I'd make a list for everyone who wants to get in the mood or just needs something to read during the holidays.

Modern AU

Flour, Water, Salt, Yeast, Love - As a regular in Link's bakery, Zelda asks him for a favor for Hylia's day. A mistake leads to them fake-dating until at the end of the holidays neither of them knows what is fake and what is real anymore. (25 chapters)

One Stitch at a Time - Zelda is taking over the fabric store from her mother and struggles to balance traditions, new ideas, and financial problems. The last thing she needs in her sewing class is a guy who disagrees with her every word and threatens to ruin her favorite time of the year: Christmas. (24 chapters)

A Rare Find - Link tries to catch a rare Korok that only appears when it rains. He finds a cute girl instead who happens to be in need of a fake boyfriend to impress her ex.

The Thing with the Matching Christmas Sweaters - Zelda realizes at the last minute that her father bought the same Christmas sweater that she and Link have planned to wear on their engagement announcing pictures. Link... has his own solution to this problem.

link_inofficial_23 - Link keeps blogging about Princess Zelda's and his life as new parents. PR is not amused.

One Night in December - Link regrets all his life decisions when he agrees to watching Hallmark movies with his long-term crush Zelda and she picks one about old friends getting together. Of all things...

Believe - A down on his luck Link accidentally prays to a long forgotten goddess and sets things in motion he isn't prepared for.

AoC/BotW

The Art of Now - A little AU where Link really is just a random soldier like at the beginning of Age of Calamity.

Of Pines and Pining - Zelda is forced to join the Champions and Sheikah to decorate the Great Hall for Hylia's Day. Of course, Link does it all wrong: chaotic and messy. But then, Zelda gets carried away and accuses him of being a messy kisser and everything only gets even more chaotic from there.

Sneaky Snow Attack - Link is on guard duty for once and discovers an intruder he doesn't mind so much. Well, before the snowball hit him, obviously.

Dismissed - Just before his first home leave after the Calamity, Link learns that Zelda has dismissed him as her appointed knight for personal reasons. He's confused and sad and the very last thing he needs is his family getting on his nerves about it.

Twilight Princess

Close Enough - The one mistletoe story without a single mistletoe around.

Fairy Magic - Zelda overworks herself before Christmas and Link decides she needs a break.

Ocarina of Time

It may be winter outside (but in my heart it's spring) - Impa sneaks Link and Zelda out to have some fun in the snow. A winterly snapshot set in the child timeline.

General LoZ AU

The Pen Pal Plan - Princess Zelda is sick of being wooed for her beauty and nothing else, so when it's time to pick a suitor, she develops a plan. All suitors who want to court her must engage in a pen pal ship with her so that they can get to know each other without the eyes of the court on them.

After a year, the time has come to meet the most promising candidates at the winter fair and make her choice, but she quickly realizes, that her "Pen Pal Plan" has some pitfalls she hasn't anticipated and chaos ensues. It would be a shame if she missed the meeting with her favorite candidate of all things! At least the kind, blue-eyed guard is still there to help her reach the last date in time...

Merry Christmas and enjoy!

💞 Zelmo

[schweizercomics]

Companions of Christmas, Day 2: Mrs. Claus

Mrs. Claus was once better known by her given name, Alba. She was the nymph of the silver fir tree, a captain in the retinue of the Greek goddess Artemis, and she first met St. Nicholas when he came to do battle with her Lady.

Nick was on a campaign to destroy Artemis's shrines and temples in his Asia Minor diocese in order to keep the Christians in his flock from “backsliding” into paganism. In these attempts, he frequently had to fight Artemis and her retinue, including Alba.

Over the years, Nick and Alba often ran into each other on the same errands of mercy, coming to the aid of a child or creature in peril. Although both were pledged to see the other undone, they found themselves allies in these ventures, first reluctantly, then enthusiastically.

Over the course of many decades and many encounters, Alba came to fall in love with Nick because of his kindness, generosity, and, above all, his fierce devotion to and protection of children, which mirrored her own. And Nick fell in love with Alba because of her unwillingness to stand by while the weak were harmed, the patience with which she sought to understand those who were different from her (patience and tolerance both being virtues that Nick clearly needed a lot of help learning), and the unmitigated joy she took from the natural world and its wonders.

Alba brokered a peace between Nick and Artemis (who presented him with her famous flying deer as a sign of peace and a means by which to better undertake his mission), married Nick, and now stewards the great fir forests of the North Pole, acting as protector and champion to the many creatures who find sanctuary there.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Happy December, friends! Each year around this time I post up drawings of Christmas and other winter holiday figures, along with narratives to explain the practices with which folklorists and holiday buffs might be familiar. When stories exist, I use them; when they don't, I do what I can to piece together what folklore surrounds them to fill in the gaps (or, in some instances, defer to the theories of my friend and fellow narrative reconcilianist Benito Cereno). I hope you enjoy them!

[cliophilyra]

Unbake My Heart

Unadulterated tooth-rotting fluff for our holiday gift exchange - for the lovely Ruta - @gaybonesforivy Happy New Year my dear!! I hope you have a wonderful 2025 🥳 ❤️

It’s very short and very sweet but I like how it came out 😊

Read on AO3 or below

Watery winter sunlight filters though the gaps in the drapes, falling across Tommy's back. He stirs in his sleep, his hand moving across Buck's chest to rest over his heart. Buck smiles, resting a hand on top of Tommy's and kissing his head, looking down at him with a kind of disbelief. He's still here. He wasn't a dream, he didn't leave in the middle of the night. He stayed.

The last thing he'd expected, half way through baking his third loaf of bread yesterday evening, was for Tommy to turn up on his doorstep to talk, and for talking and tears and recriminations and apologies to turn to kisses and touches and more, happier tears. Even after Tommy had fallen asleep with his arms around him and his head on his chest, Buck had fought to stay awake as long as he could, looking down at his long eyelashes fanned against his cheeks, mapping the familiar muscles of his back with his fingers. Needing to memorize every sound, every breath, every tiny movement, just in case he woke to find himself alone again.

But here they are, the sun is up, it's officially tomorrow and Tommy is still here, sleeping peacefully, body heavy and relaxed in his arms. Buck grins to himself and presses his lips to his curls again, a kind of calm he hasn't felt in months settling into his bones.

Tommy hums to himself and runs his hand up Buck's neck, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. "Morning," his voice is heavy and rough with sleep but he lifts his head to look up at Buck with a lazy smile, gorgeous blue eyes blinking slowly.

Buck takes his face in his hands and kisses him on the mouth, sliding his thumbs across his cheekbones. "Morning baby," he whispers. Joy and relief well up inside him and threaten to spill over. "Fuck I missed this so much," he murmurs. He knows he sounds a little choked up.

Tommy kisses him again, slow and sweet, and warmth spreads to the tips of his fingers and toes. "Oh sweetheart, I missed you more than I can ever say. I'm so sorry."

Buck raises a finger to Tommy's lips. "Hey-hey, it's ok, we talked about this, right? No more apologizing."

Tommy lets out a deep shaky breath and nods, pressing a kiss to his finger. Buck wraps his arms around his broad waist, fingers digging into his back and pulls him flush against his chest, tangling their legs together as he rolls them over and grins down at him, leaning in for another kiss, deeper this time.

As he begins to move down, trailing kisses, burying his face in Tommy's neck, chasing the comforting warmth and the familiar scent that makes his head spin, the unexpectedly loud sound of the doorbell makes them both jump.

Both of their heads turn toward the sound then back to each other. Tommy raises a questioning eyebrow. "Expecting someone?"

Buck shakes his head slowly in confusion but then realization dawns. "Shit!" he gasps, jumping out of the bed. "It's my sister! And Chim, and Jee! Fuck I forgot. I said I'd bake Christmas cookies with Jee today."

Tommy struggles to sit up, casting around for the clothes they'd left strewn across the stairs and the bedroom floor last night. Buck is halfway down the stairs in just his underwear before Tommy reminds him he probably needs to put pants on. He races back up, grabbing some sweatpants that are almost certainly Tommy's and dragging them on along with an LAFD t-shirt, and running back down, stumbling towards the door as the bell rings again.

"Hang on!" Tommy hisses. "Gimme a minute."

"No time!" Buck flings open the door with a too-wide grin that he's pretty sure makes him look slightly insane.

Maddie and Chim step back in surprise. "Took your time there Buckeroo - late night?" Chim grins, walking past him into the loft, handing over the grinning little girl in his arms.

Buck staggers a little as Jee wraps her arms around his neck and giggles when he pretends he can't hold her up. "Wow you're getting so big Jee!"

Maddie follows them in and puts a bag of Jee's stuff down on the kitchen table, squeezing Buck's arm as she passes.

"How're you doing?" she asks with a sympathetic smile.

Buck tries to school his face, not letting his glance cut towards the bedroom. He wonders where Tommy is hiding. Should he just…?

"I—" he starts.

"Have you used up all the flour in the state yet?" Chim asks.

Buck gives a weak smile, embarrassment crawling up his spine. He and Tommy might have talked through their issues but that doesn't mean he wants him to know exactly how pathetic he was without him.

"Ha. Yeah well, it's-it's Christmas. So…y'know…lots-lots of baking to do," he laughs awkwardly, scrubbing a hand over the back of his neck. Maddie gives him an odd look.

"Well I'm not complaining," Chim grins, opening Buck's fridge. "Not saying I want you to stay single and miserable forever," he says, grabbing two lemon loaves, "but you moping over Tommy does have it's perks for the rest of us."

The sound of someone clearing their throat upstairs has them all looking up with a start. Tommy is standing at the railing of the bedroom.

"Hey Howie," he says with a grin.

Maddie rounds on Buck, eyes wide, eyebrows up to her hairline.

"Uh—" Buck starts, blushing fiercely. "Surprise?"

Jee starts bouncing in his arms, reaching out with grabby hands. "Uncle Tommy!"

"Merry Christmas Buckley-Han's," Tommy says, walking down the stairs, sounding only slightly smug.

Maggie grins up at him while Chim lets out an exaggerated sigh. "Guess this means no more cake then?"

Tommy laughs as Jee launches herself from Buck's arms to his. "Oof—hi Princess Jee," he smiles, lifting her up. "I'm pretty sure we can make cookies instead, right Evan?" He leans over and presses a kiss to Buck's temple and Buck feels like his heart might explode.

[oldtvandcomics]

It is once again time to celebrate my favourite assassination attempt in literature history.

[litteratured]

Mark E Smith Reads An Xmas Story For BBC Collective

Mark E Smith of The Fall reads a Christmas ghost story exclusively for BBC Collective.

[thecheshirehouse]

Happy Holidays!

Happy Holidays from all of us here at The Cheshire House! Today, we merrily present four stories from the worlds of all our series — The Interstellar Sleuth, The Castaways of Ishiok, Disparate Minds, and Zadellin!

Twinkling with festive spirit, this beautiful artwork of Lotto the Interstellar Sleuth was created by Holly Lucero!

‘The Claus-Rosen Bridge’, originally released in Arcbeatle Press’s ‘The Book of the Snowstorm’ anthology last year, is now on The Cheshire House, accompanied with brand new artwork! The Interstellar Sleuth story, penned by Ostara Gale (@a-wartime-paradox) and edited by Aristide Twain (@aristidetwain), follows Interstellar Sleuth Lotto and his rabbit companion Mae as they traverse the Plume Coteries’ Library to thwart a mysterious malevolent figure and save Christmas!

The jolly cover of ‘Architects of a Failed World’ was drawn by Aristide Twain!

‘Architects of a Failed World’ is a brand-new tale in The Castaways of Ishiok, written by Thien Valdram, and edited by Ostara Gale and Aristide Twain. In this story, Abraytha and Xiantio encounter a scientist and their assistant who are investigating a strange, unsettling planet very far from home…

The yuletide cover for the new Disparate Minds collection, ‘Little GIfts’, was created by writer Plum Pudding!

‘Little Gifts’ is a collection of six vignettes around the world of Disparate Minds, all written by Plum Pudding, and edited by Ostara Gale and Aristide Twain. Due to [REDACTED], only five of these stories set around themes of change and holiday cheer are currently available. Follow the Idiots as they prepare for June's first Christmas in Avenue. 

This cover for ‘Our Bleak Midwinter’ was drawn by writer Theta Mandel (@theangelshavethephonebox)!

‘Our Bleak Midwinter’ was the first story to involve the crew of the good ship Zadellin, and was also originally published by Arcbeatle Press in ‘The Book of the Snowstorm’, though is rereleased today with new artwork! This tale by Theta Mandel, edited by Aristide Twain, follows a teenage girl as she strays from everything she knows to oppose a plan which could poison her very world, aided by three aliens on a mission to save their Ship with a broken heart.

You can find us at CheshireHouseStories on Instagram, Cheshire_House on X/Twitter, and thecheshirehouse on Bluesky. 

[videogamepolls]

Requested by anon

[loveyouloatheyou]

Pieces of Work: #3

The Last Dance

☆🩰°🎄°🎭☆

1.2k words

(got my writing ✨️MOJO✨️ back)

(There were MANY complications posting this)

☆☆☆

The theater lights grow dim as closing time arrives, with it, the custodian armed with his cleaning equipment. The theater seats have long been reduced to vacancy, the only sign of previous life being the muddied shoe prints, originally muddied snow. Whistling a faint tune, he rolled his mop bucket onto the vast opulent stage, the creaking of his wheels reverberating throughout the theater.

He continued to hum the faint tune as he had throughout the day. The tune was foreign, only occurring to him in the moment he began to hum it. 'Where had he heard such a tune from?' He thought to himself as his mop danced across the stage. Matching the sway of his mop, he began to twist and turn almost as though dancing, his mop his partner, and his humming his music.

'Where had he learned to dance like this again?' He thought to himself, finally admitting that he was in fact dancing. Slowly, his mind drifted into a reverie. Gentle hands took his own guiding his every move. Her tone was gentle and patient, every instructed word she spoke coming out calm. Her smile never faltered even when he continued to trip over himself stepping on her pointed toes. She simply laughed, the cadence of it forming a warm and kind melody.

As he closed his eyes, he swayed the way she had taught him, turned the way he had seen her do many times. At one point, he felt as though she was really there, guiding his every movement from afar. What would she have said if she saw him now? How the left footed dancer now held the grace of a swan, no longer as ungainly as he was before.

His reverie abruptly came to a halt at that. What could have, what should have, was no more. Anya Dubois was of no more. Nothing but the memory of others carried her on. The night of her death still remained as vivid as the night it happened.

Anya had been a dancer at the Le Théâtre des Lumières for nearly a year. She practiced day and night on the very stage he stood on. It wasn't long until the vigorous dancer would come into contact with the custodian. Their unforeseen friendship bloomed, growing within every night they shared on stage. Le Théâtre des Lumières no longer seemed so vacant at night, as Anya would always be there to accompany him much as he would her.

As the nights passed, so did the months. He never intended to learn to dance, but Anya was persistent.

"If you're not on a stage to perform, then you shouldn't be on a stage at all." She would say extending a welcoming hand forward. As persistent as she was, she was also patient. Although she had originally invited him to dance simply for the fun of it, she truly believed he had what it took to perform.

The dances they'd share were never silent. the grand piano would not play, and there were no speakers to emanate music. The lighthearted dances engulfed by laughter was adequate enough. The joy they shared would soon be short lived.

Twas the night before Christmas, and much like every other night, Anya waltzed onto the stage beaming. He had hardly uttered a greeting before he was engulfed by her buoyancy in the form of a hug.

"I've done it, all our dreams have come true!" Her whimsical demeanor was palpable, nearly suffocating.

Dedication and patience had ultimately earned her the lead role of The Nutcracker. He had disregarded his duties and danced with her nearly all night after being informed. The vivid smile she expressed, the smile he returned, it felt as though they were dancing on air, as though they were clouds itself, and nothing could bring them down. But much like all good things, joy was temporary.

Anya dropped dead on Christmas day. Being given a once and a lifetime role, practice was mandatory. So she did just that. She practiced, and practiced, and practiced. She did not stop to rest, she did not stop to breathe. Her mind was on autopilot, the repetitive instructions to dance never ceased.

By evening, she had waltzed onto the stage, and had fallen off, her body colliding with the ground emanating an echoing thud. She did not rise again.

After her demise, her name was only ever spoken in whispers. Her many feats were never mentioned. Her dedication to Le Théâtre des Lumières was never spoken of. Eventually, even her name had withered. She was notoriously known as 'The Dancing Phantom, The Woman Who Danced Herself to Death.' and even that was no longer remembered.

He sighed at the mournful recollection. He hadn't danced since her death. He didn't think he ever would. He yearned for the ceasing of silence, yearned for the music they created entirely out of their joy, yearned for the music he would never hear or make again.

A final dance was all he yearned for. To share one last dance with his beloved.

A hand, pale and thin, extended itself from the shadows of the spotlight. Amidst the dark the hand was without a body. He stared, blinked, and rubbed his eyes. The hand did not vanish. It remained as it was, patiently waiting in the dark.

As grim as it appeared to be, there was a sense of familiarity. He disregarded caution, relinquishing his grip on his mop, and exchanging it for the alluring hand. Slowly, yet not hesitantly, his hand met with the other.

A sound, faint at first, made itself apparent. A key from the grand piano began to play. Stepping out of the shadows, the hand revealed who it had belonged to. Anya Dubois smiled at her companion. Inundated by bewilderment, she led him forward as more piano keys began to play.

The song was slow, but even with the reduced tempo, he still found familiarity in the melody. It was the Final Waltz and Apotheosis, the song Anya never danced to. Guiding his movements, she extended his arms, swirled him round, and steered him into the right movements. The dance-less years had left him stiff, but her guidance was like oil on his rusted gears.

He followed her every movement as he once did before, their slow dance becoming more free with every twist and turn of their bodies. Although they did not speak, much was said. It could be heard in the keys of the piano, the curves of their smiles, and the liberation of their dance.

The air beneath his feat grew faint, with each step he took he felt himself rise higher and higher. Surpassing the ceiling of the theater, surpassing the roof of the exterior, they danced among the clouds engulfed by the melody they shared. All was well, and well was all.

He hadn't noticed the music grow faint, hadn't noticed the ground grow solid, hadn't noticed his love slowly slipping away as the song came to an end. In the theater, he stood alone. Glancing at the disregarded mop, he retrieved his equipment and called it a night. Whether reality or hallucination, he was glad she had shared his final dance with him.

As the creaking of his wheels grew faint in the distance, the stage spotlight flickered off, a silhouette disappearing with the light.

The End 🎄🩰🎭

(Thank you for bearing with me and this rush of a Christmas story 🙏🙏🙏)

[stone-cold-groove]

The Littlest Snowman. Wonder Books - 1976.

[iwanttobepersephone]

Okay I was talking to my brother and now I'm curious. What's your favorite Christmas memory and did it actually have anything to do with Christmas? I'll share mine first

One day when I was 10, my brother was sleeping at his friends house and I got permission to sleep on the couch. I was sorta falling asleep when my mom walked out of her room and said "Hey, I want dairy queen, do you want dairy queen?" So, at 10 pm, we went out in our pajamas to the Dairy Queen drive through. We got vanilla ice cream, fries, and some chicken and gravy. We ate in the parking lot while the Christmas radio played quietly in the background and laughed about random things and had fun together. My absolute favorite Christmas memory of all time, and in the end, it had nothing to do with Santa Claus or Christmas presents or anything like that. Idk. I wanna hear people's stories

[adventuresofalgy]

Algy hopped up into a convenient Scots pine tree, well away from the cold, wet snow on the ground, and settled down to read his very own adventure tale The Magical Midwinter Star, which had just been reissued in paperback.

Algy turned page after page, excitedly going back in his mind to that past adventure from his very first winter in the wild west Highlands of Scotland, and he became so engrossed in his own story that he failed to notice that the magic pumpkin lantern, which he had balanced carefully on a branch between his feet, had once more transformed itself into a candle.

As the flame began to glow, Algy was in the middle of the chapter called Snow. Oh No! in which he decided that he would have to brave the dangers of the deep midwinter to search for a very special tree. Reaching the bottom of page 40 he read:

“When I was chatting with Wee Katie,” Algy said hesitantly, “she told me that, once upon a time, the creatures round here used to have a big party in the middle of the winter, to cheer everyone up when it was so cold and dark. She called it a hootenanny.” “A hootenanny!” echoed Mr Voles excitedly. “And when I asked Ruaridh if he knew what the silvery balls might be,” Algy continued, “young Flòraidh sang me some verses from an old song about a green tree and the Midwinter Star.” “The Midwinter Star,” Mr Voles murmured dreamily. “The Midwinter Star.” “The song mentioned dressing up the tree with pretty things,” said Algy, “but Ruaridh said that no one has done that for ages, because the old pine tree blew down.” “Quite so,” rasped Roni. “Quite so,” echoed Mr Voles regretfully. “Quite so.” Roni hopped over to the edge of the Singing Place and perched on the bare rock, staring intently at Algy. “Go on,” she rasped. “Go on!” echoed Mr Voles breathlessly. “Go on!” “Well, I was thinking” said Algy. “I thought that maybe, if I could find a suitable tree somewhere, I could use the silvery objects I found – I mean the baubles – to decorate it, and then we could all have a grand midwinter hootenanny like they did in the old days.” “A fine idea, in principle,” rasped Roni. “A fine idea!” agreed Mr Voles, jumping up and down beside Algy’s foot.

[Algy is reading his own illustrated children's chapter book The Magical Midwinter Star, which together with the other books in the series Tales from the Adventures of Algy is available from Amazon in most countries of the world.]

[knight--error]

I think the biggest thing wrong with me is that I absolutely cannot withstand it when an otherwise non-Christmas story is set at Christmas. I eat it up every time. It's the contrast of a season of reverent joy and the struggle and pain of the unfolding drama. It's the oppressive cold without vs. the glowing warmth within. It's the inherent time constraint. It's the decorations. It's the snow. I am the only woman alive who liked Iron Man 3 and the Hawkeye show and it was entirely 100% because they were set at Christmas. I cannot resist it.