#pig in a christmas stocking

[guineapiggies]

Via fluffypotatogram

[bursting-at-the-memes]

Christmas themed sentence starters!

"We should totally hang some mistletoe." "We are not hanging mistletoe." "I don't need gifts. Just give me eighteen boxes of pigs in blankets and I'll be happy." "We should bake gingerbread." "Don't look! I'm not done wrapping your gift yet!" "Look! It's snowing!" "Want to decorate cookies with me?" "I need to confess something. I've never cooked a turkey before." "Wait, did we forget the roast potatoes?" "Present time! This one's for you." "Stockings go over the fireplace, not in the fire." "Hot chocolate, blankets, and the lights on the tree. Is there any better way to spend christmas eve?" "I think the tree needs more decorations." "I think there's too much on that tree." "Oh christmas tree, oh christmas tree. ...Uh...what's the next line?" "We should watch christmas films!" "Why are you putting lights there?" "We need more lights." "That house must be visible from space with all those lights." "You should put the star on the tree." "Can I put the star on top?" "The houseplants deserve tinsel too. Otherwise they'll get jealous of the tree." "You cannot escape the ugly jumpers, (name)." "Are you seriously wearing antlers?" "Get in the spirit, name." "I stocked up on fancy chocolates for christmas three days ago. Now they're gone. I am full of sugar and regret." "I'm practising my surprised face. How's this?" "Why even put candy canes on the tree? Aren't they supposed to be eaten?"

[corroded-hellfire]

For the Christmas requests ⛄

Imagine Christmas when Eliza is old enough to believe in Santa and everything is rather new to her, especially since her brothers are teenagers and probably don't have the same excitement as her and Eddie's emotional cause his boys are grown up now and very excited trying to make the most of the holidays with Eliza helping her write a letter to Santa, decorate the house etc etc

I simply fell in love with this idea the moment I read it 🥰

Words: 2.4k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Downstairs is quiet, the soft hum of the fridge all that’s piercing the calm silence. The living room is dim, the only light coming from the white twinkle of the Christmas tree in the living room. It casts a warm, inviting glow over the kitchen, making everything feel peaceful and still on this cold December night.

Ryan and Luke are tucked away in a corner of Ryan’s bedroom, a video game controller in each of their hands, fiercely battling one another to see who can kill the most zombies. You’re in the shower, letting the hot water take the chill out of your bones.

Eddie pads gently into the kitchen, looking to grab one of the frosted sugar cookies you made with Eliza earlier in the day. He pulls back the cling wrap and slips out a red frosted stocking-shaped cookie topped with snowflake sprinkles. As per usual for him, the cling sticks to Eddie’s fingers and he has to fumble his hand free without smearing any of the other cookies or ending up with multicolored frosting coating his skin.

Once he’s made a successful escape, Eddie lifts the cookie to his mouth—but stops halfway. He pauses, a small smile coming to his face as he looks at the cookie. Suddenly he’s transported back to when the boys were little.

“I don’t know why that’s in with the Christmas cookie cutters!” Luke crosses his arms over his chest and shrugs his small shoulders. The three-year-old is firm in his opinions already.

Eddie chuckles and uses his forefinger to dab flour on the tip of his younger son’s nose.

“Because it’s a stocking, duh!” Ryan says from the other side of his father.

“It looks like a J!” Luke replies, gesturing towards the offending cookie cutter in question.

“There aren’t any other letters here though!” Ryan retorts.

“Boys,” Eddie says, calmly putting a hand on each of their shoulders. “It doesn’t matter if it’s a stocking or a J, does it? Santa is going to love it no matter what when you leave it for him tonight.”

Luke picks at the bottom corner of the rolled-out sugar cookie dough in front of him. He pinches it off before rolling it between his thumb and forefinger.

“Do you think Santa will leave us more presents if we put chocolate chips in them?” Luke asks.

“Oh, good idea!” Ryan adds, face lighting up in excitement at the prospect.

“I think we can manage that,” Eddie says. He steps away from the counter to grab the bag of chocolate chips out of the pantry. When he turns back around, he watches his sons from behind as they move closer together.

“We gotta leave Santa the biggest cookies,” Ryan tells his younger brother quietly.

“So we can’t let Daddy eat them!” Luke adds, nodding emphatically.

Eddie lets out a silent chuckle before walking back to his previous post between his two sons.

“Alright, so why don’t we use the chips as buttons with this snowman cookie cutter?”

He smiles wistfully at the cookie in his hand before sinking a bite into it. The sound of his chewing prevents him from hearing the less-than-graceful footsteps that are slowly coming down the stairs.

Cookie fully crammed into his mouth, Eddie swipes a paper towel from the roll and wipes his hands off on it before turning to toss it in the garbage can under the sink.

Unruly curls catch in Eddie’s periphery and he does a double take when he sees Eliza standing there, long pale pink nightgown hanging around her, and her stuffed pig Penelope dangling from her hand at her side.

Eddie swallows the cookie and tosses the paper towel into the trash bin.

“What are you doing up, sweetheart?” he asks. “I thought you were sleeping.”

Your three-year-old shakes her head, clearly tired.

“What’s going on, huh? Did you have a bad dream?” Eddie cocks his head to the side and takes a few steps closer to her.

Eliza shakes her head and rubs her right eye with her free hand.

“Can’t sleep,” she says.

Eddie frowns and crouches down to be at her level.

“Why not?”

“I not write my letter yet,” she says.

Your husband’s eyebrows pinch together in confusion.

“What letter?” he asks, head tilting to the side.

“For Santa.” Her dark sleepy eyes widen and Eddie can see the true worry there. “If I don’t write it for him, he won’t get in time.”

“Ah.” Eddie nods in understanding. He remembers the days when Luke and Ryan would write their letters together at the kitchen table, always peeking over to see what the other was asking for and double checking that they weren’t asking for the same toys. There’s a sudden pang in his heart that the boys are teenagers now; that young, joyful, magical wonder is long gone from their Christmases. Eddie knows he should tell Eliza that they’ll write the letter tomorrow and to get back to bed. But he doesn’t want to. He wants to indulge in this joy with her. To help her keep her endearing innocence when it comes to Christmas magic.

“Why don’t we fix that right now, huh?” Eddie asks. “Write your letter real quick, then you get back to bed and I’ll send it out to Santa before I go to sleep.”

Eliza nods, bedhead curls bobbing with the movement. She takes a few steps forward and lovingly rests her forehead against Eddie’s right cheekbone. Your husband smiles at the sweet, if not sleepy, gesture.

“Let’s see what we’ve got,” he says. Eddie presses a kiss to the top of her head before standing back up to full height.

The drawer next to the sink gracefully glides open and Eddie pulls out a notepad and pen. He holds them both in one hand and offers the other to his daughter.

“Shall we?” he asks.

Eliza’s small hand folds into his much larger one and the two walk towards the dining room table. Eddie pulls out a cherry oak chair and lowers himself down on it. He effortlessly lifts Eliza and sets her on his left thigh, facing in toward the table. The blank lined paper stares up at the pair of them and Eddie lets a black pen roll from his grip.

“So,” Eddie says, uncapping the pen with one hand while the other arm holds Eliza safely in place. “What are we going to tell Santa?”

The little girl plucks the pen from her father’s grip and presses the tip to the top of the page of paper.

“How I spell ‘dear Santa?’”

Eddie guides her through those letters, occasionally correcting her on how to properly draw them out. After she writes her greeting and adds a comma that’s longer than her father’s hair, Eliza tilts her head up at Eddie.

“Now what do you want to say?” Eddie asks her.

“Ummm…” Eliza looks back down at the paper. Her nose scrunches up as she tries to envision the perfect letter in her mind. “Wanna tell him about me.”

“Go ahead, sweet pea.”

“Daddy, can you help me write?”

A soft smile graces Eddie’s face before he presses a few gentle kisses to the top of his little girl’s head.

“Anything for you, Lize.”

Eddie’s right hand gently curls around Eliza’s, guiding it below the greeting, to the next line.

“Uh, I Eliza,” she says, trying to figure out what content to add.

“How about how old you are?” Eddie offers.

Eliza nods and relaxes back against her father’s chest as they continue to write as a team.

“Can I ask him questions?” Eliza asks, peering nervously down at the sheet of paper.

“I think he’d love that,” Eddie assures her.

Dear Santa,

My name is Eliza and I am three years old. I have been very good all year. Except the time that I took one of my brother Luke’s cleats cleets baseball shoes. I didn’t want him to go to baseball practice, I wanted him to stay home and play with me. But I gave Luke his shoe back and he said it was okay, so I don’t think that is something to put me on the naughty list for.

There are lots of things I want for Christmas but Daddy says I can only tell you the ones I really really want because you’re busy with all the other kids. I would please like a new Barbie doll. I want her to have red hair because then she will look like my best friend Mia and my Aunt Max. I also want a new princess crown because I don’t have a green one yet. Can I also have a tea set so I can have tea parties with my mommy? I want to ask for one more thing and Daddy says Mommy won’t like it, but I want a tiny dragon who can sleep on my bed with me. But no fire breathing because that is too hot.

Santa, is it always cold in the North Pole? How many reindeer do you have? Are there more than the ones you fly with? Where do they live? Does Rudolph have a bigger house than the rest of them? Maybe I can name my dragon Rudolph!

Okay, I have to go to bed now and I want my daddy to send this letter to you right now. So bye and I hope you get lots of yummy cookies but none that are yummier than the ones I made with Mama.

Love,

Eliza Marie Munson

Eddie smiles as he helps her sign off with the final “n” of their last name.

“Feel better now?” Eddie asks.

Eliza nods, stretching her mouth wide open in a yawn as she does. Your husband presses a few kisses to the girl’s head as she leans back against his torso. Penelope the pig starts to slip off of her lap but Eddie is able to make a quick save and set the doll on the table.

When he peers down at her, Eddie can see that Eliza is already fast asleep. Her body goes pliant as her soft breathing evens out. Solid arms wrap around her tiny frame and Eddie holds her close to his chest as he pushes the chair away from the table and stands up.

He manages to finagle her more to his left so he can scoop up Eliza’s beloved Penelope in the other hand. Slowly, Eddie heads towards the stairs and takes one careful step at a time until he reaches the second story of the house. Eliza’s room is at the end of the hall and, just as the two of them pass by the door to your bathroom, you pull it open.

A smile graces your lips when you see the peaceful face of your sleeping daughter. You tie the belt of your plush bathrobe as you follow Eddie down the hallway to Eliza’s room. First, Eddie tosses Penelope down onto the small bed. Then he slowly, as not to wake her, lowers Eliza’s fragile form, cradling the back of her head with one large hand.

The moment her body comes into contact with her blankets, Eliza buries her face in her pillow and curls up against her crumpled and bunched-up comforter. A content sigh is all you hear before her soft breathing fills the room.

Arms now free, Eddie pulls you against his body and the two of you just stand there in the moment. It reminds you of how you’d simply stare down in awe at your daughter when she was a newborn. Everything about her was new and exciting. Now, you admire how those features have changed. Her cheeks still hold that round but chubbable marker of toddlerhood. The little button nose she’s had from the moment you laid eyes on her hasn’t changed at all—even though it crinkles up more these days whenever she laughs.

“She’s perfect,” Eddie whispers, bringing you back to the present.

“Of course she is,” you reply at the same volume. “We made her.”

After taking one last look at your sleeping daughter, the two of you quietly slip out of her room. The sound of Ryan and Luke battling one another in some form of virtual combat leaks out into the hallway and you chuckle. Eddie listens as well, remembering when those voices weren’t as deep as they’ve started to become recently and were excited about the things Eliza is now.

You head down the stairs, Eddie right behind you. The soft white lights gleaming on the tree fill the living room with a warm glow that’s unlike any other during the year. Swaddled up in your robe, you sit down on the couch and pat the cushion next to you. Eddie takes the cue and settles in at your side. The serenity of the moment lulls you into sleepiness. You rest your head on your husband’s shoulder and he gently lays his head atop yours.

After a few quiet moments, Eddie whispers, “I missed this.”

“Missed what, Eds?” you ask, letting your eyes succumb to their heaviness.

“The magic,” Eddie replies wistfully. “The Santa, and the reindeer, and the pure innocence and joy of those little faces when they see what’s under the tree for them. Christmas is still so meaningful with the boys at this age, but there’s a spark that’s missing once they know the truth. It’s back, though. Even with the boys, I can see it. The way they ask Eliza when she wants to go see Santa at the mall or if she wants to make reindeer food to leave out for them on Christmas Eve.”

A soft chuckle rumbles through your chest.

“What’s reindeer food?” you ask.

“Basically trail mix,” Eddie says with a soft laugh of his own. “It was Luke’s idea when he was little.”

“I’m glad you feel that magic again,” you tell him. “That’s the Christmas spirit.”

“Don’t go singing carols on me,” Eddie teases.

You laugh and turn your head to bury your face in his neck, the familiar scent of Irish Spring soap making you take a deep breath in.

“How about we just enjoy this silent night then?” you ask, pressing a light kiss to the side of Eddie’s throat.

“Good thinking,” Eddie says, tucking you into his side. “It’s only a matter of time before we get interrupted by one of our little drummer boys—or girl.”

“Hmm,” you hum, resting your head on your husband’s shoulder. “Then I think I’ll soak up every second of this cuddle time with you.”

“Merry Christmas to me.”

[sycamorelibrary754]

Happy Thanksgiving

Summary: You invite Natasha’s family to join you for Thanksgiving. Holiday cheer and a surprise awaits!

Genre: Fluff

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x reader, Yelena Belova x reader (platonic), Alexei Alanovich Shostakov x reader (platonic) Melina Vostokoff x reader (platonic)

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: None

A/N: This was a fun one. Happy Thanksgiving!

When you first broached the subject with Natasha of inviting Yelena, Melina, and Alexi to your home for Thanksgiving, you weren’t sure how your wife would respond. True, things were better. Their relationship had gone through something of a healing process since they took down Dreykov and the Red Room together, but her family was still a lot to handle. Most of the team was going to Iowa to spend Thanksgiving with the Barton’s. Clint had gotten it into his head to deep fry the turkey this year. It was going to be can’t-miss-entertainment according to Sam. However, you and Natasha were looking forward to a more intimate holiday.

“You really want my family to join us for Thanksgiving?” Her eyes met yours as you snuggled up on the couch together.

“I think it could be really fun. Plus, you deserve to spend quality time with them that doesn’t involve death, destruction, or pigs,” you joked. 

“You don’t like mom’s pigs?” She smirked.

No, love. I do. They’re adorable. Especially once Yelena made them those personalized piggy vests,” you giggled.

“Oh, yeah… Pests!” Natasha laughed recalling the image. 

“So what do you think? A Romanoff family Thanksgiving?”

She thought for a moment before a smile reached her lips. “Okay, let’s do it. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think it could be fun,” caressing your cheek softly. 

You went into planning mode upon receiving Nat’s approval and confirmation that all three were available and would be there with bells on. You were determined to make it a memorable holiday for everyone.

*^~^*

You left early to hit the grocery store the Monday before Thanksgiving. It was crucial to avoiding the out-of-stock items and the rush of “fucking annoying slowpokes who don’t know a shallot from an onion,” you eloquently informed your wife after wiggling out of her warm hold. 

Nat mumbled something akin to, “See you later, detka,” her head buried in her pillow as you hurriedly put on your coat, scarf, and beanie and rushed out of the house. Your car keys and shopping list clenched purposefully in your fist.

*^~^*

The front door slammed shut a couple of hours later, alerting Natasha to your arrival.

“I’m home, love!” You called out.

“The conquering shopper has returned! How was the store?” Looking around at the mountain of groceries cluttered around you like presents under the Christmas tree. 

“It was good! I managed to get everything on the list,” removing your warm attire and running your hand smoothly through your hair. 

“I can see that, y/n. Did you leave anything for the other shoppers?” Nat smirked. 

“This is all necessary for the traditional Thanksgiving feast I have planned for us,” you explained. “Your family has never had an American Thanksgiving, so I thought, why not go all out?” 

Your wife stepped carefully around your grocery maze and wrapped her arms lovingly around your neck. “Have I told you how much I love you?” 

“Not in the last twenty minutes,” jokingly glancing at the imaginary watch on your wrist before planting a tender kiss on her lips.

Natasha offered to unpack the groceries for you. Meanwhile, you set about creating a cooking timeline for the meal preparation. You were so in your element your wife couldn’t help but smile. As you typed away on your laptop, your adorable expression reminded her of your demeanor in the field. You were focused, engaged, and confident. 

*^~^*

A creature of habit, Natasha awoke the following morning for her daily run. She groggily reached over to turn off her alarm until she realized the alarm hadn’t gone off. No, the clanging of pots and pans from the kitchen tore her from her blissful sleep. Nat rolled over to your side of the bed only to find it empty. She groaned softly and sat up, cracking her neck and stretching her arms over her head as a yawn escaped her lips.

Natasha padded down the hall toward the kitchen, still clad in her pajamas and the fuzzy socks you bought her. She turned the corner to find you floating around the kitchen in a whirlwind—dishes in the oven and stove.

“Moya lyubov? You’re already in the kitchen?” Rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“No rest for the wary, sweetheart. I’ve got to get the pumpkin pie out of the way so I can get started on the sides by this afternoon,” you explained, fervently whisking your pumpkin puree into your custard mixture. You glanced around the counter like you were looking for something. “Oh, can you hand me those spice jars behind you?”

She picked up the cinnamon, nutmeg, and ginger, stacking them precariously on top of one another like blocks before appearing at your side.

“Nicely done. You missed your calling as a professional Jenga player.”

“Take your damned spices,” she snarked.

You sprinkled the spice mixture into the filling and let it sit. “Okay,” you said, wiping your brow. “I just need to grab the pie crust out of the oven. It should be par-baked by now.”

“I got it, detka,” pulling on the oven mitts and removing the pan from the oven. 

Perfect, now we’re just going to fill the crust,” carefully pouring the custard filling. “Then this is going back in the oven at 325 for 45-60 minutes.” 

Nat carefully placed the pie back in the oven. “Shall I close, doctor?”

“Please,” in your most professional voice before lapsing into giggles. 

“Now, that’s in. We can get started on the sides. Mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, stuffing, cranberry feta salad,” you listed.

Two types of potatoes?”

“Oh, it’s a must, love! You get both the salty and the sweet. It’s potato perfection.”

“Hmm, just like you,” she said suggestively.

“Smooth,” you replied.

“I try," putting her arm around your shoulder.

*^~^*

You were still in the kitchen when Natasha returned from her run. 

“Have you taken a break at all since I left?” She removed her running shoes and placed them by the front door.

“No time for breaks. Your sister just texted me and asked if Mac and Cheese was part of the American Thanksgiving tradition, so I’m whipping up one for her.”

Your wife rolled her eyes. “For God’s sake, that’s not necessary, malyshka. Yelena will survive one meal without her precious Mac and Cheese.” 

“It’s no problem. I want your family to feel comfortable! That’s why I also have a sparkling Vodka cocktail planned,” you winked. 

“That is so sweet, but there is no need to stress over it, y/n. They are going to love it no matter what you make. Plus, you know if you feed them this well, they’ll never leave, right?”

“Wouldn’t that be wonderful?” You joked.

“No, it wouldn’t,” she deadpanned.

The rest of the afternoon was spent preparing the stuffing, cranberry sauce, garlic green beanies, and gravy. By the time you finally laid down on the couch Tuesday evening, still in your apron, you were pleased with your progress. Your legs lay across Natasha’s lap while she massaged your aching feet. She wasn’t surprised to look over and find you sound asleep five minutes later as the television glow illuminated your features. Your wife could only smile at your sleepy form before gently picking you up and carrying you to bed.

*^~^*

Wednesday morning Natasha decided to let you sleep in, so she made the executive decision to turn your alarm off. Truthfully, she felt guilty for how hard you had been pushing yourself this week for the sake of her family. Nat was nursing a cup of tea and reading a book in the family room when she heard you down the hall.

“Oh, crap!” You shouted.

“3,2,1…..” Natasha counted down.

“Nat, why didn’t you wake me up!” Throwing on your favorite cardigan as you entered the room. “I’ve still got to make the pretzel bread and raspberry jello today.”

“You needed the sleep. I can’t tell you’re exhausted, and you were sleeping so soundly when I got up.”

You had a look of panic in your eyes.

“It’s okay, y/n. I found the jello and bread recipes on the table and got the jump on it for you. The jello is done and in the fridge, and the bread dough is under the towel rising.”

You blinked a couple of times as if she was speaking Latin. “You cooked?” 

“Are you questioning my abilities?” Raising an eyebrow. 

“Well.… yeah? I love you, sweetheart, but the only thing I’ve ever seen you make is a peanut butter sandwich.”

“See for yourself,” smiling proudly and removing her reading glasses.

Opening the fridge, you were pleasantly surprised to find a gelatinous raspberry jello staring back at you. You then peeked under the towel on the counter to find the bread dough had just about doubled in size.

“Well, turn me upside down and paint me blue!”

“Hmmm, tempting, but let’s save that for after my family leaves,” Natasha smirked as she kissed the side of your temple from behind. 

“This is awesome, my love. Thank you so much,” turning around in her hold. “I have to say, the thought of the Black Widow cooking Thanksgiving dinner is incredibly sexy.”

“Is it now?” She said, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Very, I may have to get you your apron,” you teased as Natasha gently grasped your ear lobe between her teeth before placing soft kisses down your neck. Her phone dinged with a text notification on the counter beside you a few moments later. You glanced down at the screen out of the corner of your eye.

“It’s Yelena, sweetheart...”

“Is she on fire? Otherwise, I’m not stopping.” Moving the tender kisses to your lips. 

“No, she wants to know if she should bring anything,” you replied between kisses.

She feels terrible we’re doing all the work,”

“She’s bringing our parents, that’s a shit ton of work.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

*^~^*

The next day, you and Natasha got started on the crown jewel of your Thanksgiving dinner: the turkey. After letting it thaw in the fridge all week, your twenty-pound bird had been marinating in a salt brine for twelve hours. You placed the turkey in the oven at 425 degrees for 35 minutes, which gave you two just enough time to get ready before it needed to be basted.

You heard the doorbell after showering and putting on your best fall colors.

“Baby, they’re here!” you called, opening the door to welcome your guests.

Alexi was sporting a plush turkey hat while Melina held a freshly made appetizer. Standing in front of both of them, Yelena had Fanny at her feet. She quickly stepped inside first with a warm hug and a peck on your cheek. 

“Happy Thanksgiving, y/n! Thank you so much for inviting us. “Now,” placing both hands on your shoulders. “Where is the booze? I just had to spend the last 20 minutes in the car alone with them, listening to Alexi ramble on about his stupid hat.”

You point toward the coffee table, holding the sparkling Vodka cocktails as your sister-in-law gives you a cheeky smile. “I love you.” 

“Haha!” Alexi exclaimed. Greetings, my wonderful daughter-in-law. I am ready for turkey!” Wrapping you in a giant bear hug.

“Could’ve fooled me, Alexi,” you joked. “Ooh, Melina, what do we have here? It looks delicious.”

“A traditional Russian appetizer, Mushroom Julienne. Mushrooms and onions cooked in cream sauce, cheese, and sour cream.”

“My mouth is already watering. Here, let me take your coats. You can place them on the coffee table,” you offered. 

After tending to the coats, you rejoined the group as everyone settled in the family room for appetizers and cocktails. Holiday music played softly in the background, setting the scene perfectly. You sat on the sofa beside your wife while your in-laws treated you to numerous stories of Natasha and Yelena’s all-to-brief childhood in Ohio. Some of which you had yet to hear. 

“Y/N, has Natalia told you how she and Yelena used to stay up late on Christmas Eve to try and catch Santa Claus?” Melina asked. 

“Now, that was fun. You know, he comes down the chimney, girls. Look out! Where is he? You wait for him, and when the cookies are gone, you see he’s there.” Alexi recalled.

Yelena smiled fondly at the memory while Natasha turned red as Santa’s suit and hid her face in her hands.

“Aww, honey,” rubbing circles on her back. It’s precious! I’m sure you were adorable.” 

“As adorable as you can be with bright blue hair. You looked like cotton candy,” Yelena laughed. 

Nat threw a pillow across the room, barely missing her sister’s head.

“Ha!! Missed!” Yelena snarked.

“Girls, behave,” Melina ordered.

You couldn’t help but smile at the sisterly teasing and family banter. This was exactly what you were hoping for, and the evening was just getting started.

“Oh, detka, you don’t have a drink yet. Let me get you one,” Natasha offered, standing up, but your hand on her arm stopped her. 

“Oh, no thanks, love. I actually need to go check on the turkey.” 

“I’ll join you,” Yelena announced. “I want to see this bird you Americans are so crazy about.”

You opened the oven to reveal your delectable 20-pound turkey. “Do you want to brush it with the honey glaze for me, Yelena? I’m going to check on the side dishes.” 

“Just call me DaVinci!” She declared.

You turned around to find your sister-in-law had finished the glazing by painting a smiley face on the turkey. 

“Wow, I didn’t know our turkey had such a charming smile,” you joked. Reducing the heat to 325 and setting the timer for another 75 minutes. 

“Thank you again for including us today, y/n. While it would’ve been fun to watch Barton sear his eyebrows off trying to deep-fry a turkey, it's been nice to see Natasha so happy. We didn’t have any family holidays growing up. Not real ones, anyway.”

“Well, you always will now,” placing an arm around her shoulder. “I will spend the rest of my life trying to make your sister happy. That’s a promise.”

*^~^*

While the turkey finished cooking, you decided to share as many of your Thanksgiving traditions as possible. You watched the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, took in some Turkey Day football, and even played a rousing game of Pictionary.

“What the hell is that?” Yelena shouted as Nat was diligently engaged in her drawing.  

“Oooh! Ooh! A ladybug doing the Macarena!”You screamed just before the timer ran out.

“Yes!” Nat shouted.

“Unbelievable, what is that? Five in a row,” Melina remarked. No wonder you two are such a good team.”

“Well, it's no surprise you're a pro at Pictionary. Who needs talent when you can just doodle like a 5-year-old?” Yelena retorted.

“Don’t hate the player, hate the game, Lena,” dropping the marker like a microphone.

“Trust me, I do. It will be perfect for when I want to torture Kate Bishop.”

“With that, I think it’s time for dinner,” you announced happily. 

*^~^*

It only took a few minutes before your Thanksgiving feast was lovingly displayed on the dining room table. The sight and aroma of the food was a gentle massage to the soul.

“Before we dig in,” holding up your glass for a toast, “I just wanted to say how happy Nat and I are that you could join us today. We love you, and I’m so thankful to be a part of your family.”

Natasha grasped your hand and placed a soft kiss on your knuckles. 

“We feel the same way,” Melina concurred.

“Yes, we’re so happy that you and our little Natalia found each other,” Alexi added.

“Yes, y/n is a saint. It’s all very touching. Can I carve the turkey now,” Yelena groaned, holding up a sharpened carving knife. 

“You may proceed,” you declared with a Queen’s wave of your hand. 

Dishes were passed around the table like musical chairs. Wine filled everyone’s glasses while you opted for your favorite - Martinelli’s Sparkling Cider. You pretended not to notice Yelena sneaking a few scraps to Fanny under the table. The chatter rose and fell, every few moments dispersed with laughter. It was the kind of occasion most aren't aware they're genuinely enjoying yet look back at in warm nostalgia.

After hibernating in your Thanksgiving food comas, you returned to the family room for dessert. You were excited to finally bring out the homemade Pumpkin pie topped with whipped cream.

“Ah, now this is a beautiful pie.” Look at this, girls. I love America, you cannot get this back in St. Petersburg.” Alexi gushed. 

“Y/N made it from scratch,” your wife bragged, causing you to blush at the compliment.

“Did y/n also split the atom?” Yelena teased. She earned an eye roll from her older sister. “Could you BE more whipped?”

“No, I honestly don’t think I could,” Natasha looked at you like you had hung the moon and the stars. 

*^~^*

As the evening wound down, the hustle and bustle of the past week was starting to catch up to you. Your wife didn’t miss your heavy eyelids or the tiny yawn that escaped your lips as Fanny hopped up on the couch to lay down beside you. 

“Well, we should probably get going. Traffic will be annoying when crossing back over the bridge,” your sister-in-law said.

“Before you go, I have gifts for all of you!” You exclaimed, jumping up off the couch. 

“You do?”A bewildered expression on Nat’s face. 

“I do!” You’re voice trailed away as you padded down the hall toward your bedroom.

Natasha turned around to her family with a shrug of her shoulders. She had no clue what you were talking about. You returned a moment later with small autumn-gold gift bags. 

“This is just a little something for each of you,” clasping your hands together in front of your smiling face. Natasha was even more confused when you handed her one as well. “Go on, sweetheart,” you encouraged.

Natasha removed the delicate tissue paper. Her solid and calloused hands met the soft cotton hiding inside. She pulled the gift out and held it up in front of her. A tiny onesie that read “Mommy’s Little Turkey” was staring back at her. 

Natasha stared at it speechlessly, wide-eyed. A first for your relationship. Finally, her brain caught up with the moment. “Moya lyubov—what? We—you…you’re pregnant?”

You nodded vigorously, starting to cry. Natasha’s hands cupped your cheeks. Her lips met yours in a heartfelt kiss, not caring that her family was watching. You gently combed your fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck, returning the kiss.

Melina, Alexi, and Yelena held up their onesies to find variations of Natasha’s: Grandma’s Little Turkey, Grandpa’s Little Turkey, and Auntie’s Little Turkey.” 

“I knew it!”Yelena shouted.

Melina turned to Natasha and whispered, “You see what can happen when you keep your heart,” holding her lovingly in her arms.  

Vashe zdorov'ye! (Cheers) Alexi exclaimed. If it is a boy, you will name him Alexi. It is a strong and honorable name!” Kissing you on both cheeks.

“Oh God,” Yelena muttered under her breath. “For the love of Fanny, please don’t do that,” wrapping her arms around you. “I would love to babysit. I’m looking forward to passing on much to my niece or nephew.”

“Yeah, that’s not terrifying at all,” your wife mumbled in your ear. 

The shock was wearing off. Natasha reached down and gently placed her palm on your stomach. You weren’t showing yet, but just knowing that your child was growing inside you awakened a dream that she had put away in the Red Room long ago. 

*^~^*

Once her family left, Natasha insisted that she would handle the post-holiday clean-up, confining you to the couch with many pillows and a fluffy blanket. Foreshadowing what was to come for the duration of your pregnancy. 

“Sweetheart, those dishes go in the top right cupboard,” directing her from the couch.

“No worries, malyshka. I got it! You take it easy. The baby needs rest after all of this Thanksgiving cheer,” her protective instincts appear.

“The baby is the size of a plum, my love,”

“A very tired plum!” 

*^~^*

Thirty minutes later, the kitchen was clean, and you both were ready for a good night’s sleep. You would never admit it to your wife, but boy, were you tired. You donned your coziest pajamas and joined Natasha in bed. Snuggled into the covers, you found comfort and peace in your safe space. Nat rolled over to face you, your foreheads touching in a beautifully intimate gesture of love and affection. 

“This has been the best day of my life. Not only did you give my family an amazing Thanksgiving, you gave me a gift I’ll never forget. Though I have to admit now that I know you’re pregnant, I’m replaying the last week in my head in a loop of horrifying anxiety.” 

You giggled at her confession, “It’s alright, Nat. I’m ready for a nice long rest, and I just had a check-up with Helen last week.”

“Wait, does the team know?” 

“Dear God, no. You think that group can keep a secret?”

“We can tell them at Stark’s Christmas party in a couple of weeks if you’re comfortable with the idea.” 

“Perfect. I need time to prepare for the onslaught of attention from our little one’s aunts and uncles.”

Natasha reached over and grabbed your hand. “I love you, y/n. I can’t wait to welcome our little plum into the world,” she smiled.

“I love you too. You are going to be an amazing mother, sweetheart.”

“Happy Thanksgiving, y/n”

“Happy Thanksgiving, Natasha.”

[moonmaiden1996]

The Hogfather’s Gift

This is a story inspired by one of my favorite things I love to watch at Christmas time, The Hogfather, by Terry Pratchett.

Astarion is finding it a little difficult to take your traditions seriously. Maybe a little gift from the man in question would change his mind.

Snow blanketed the forest surrounding the small cabin you and Astarion had chosen as your winter retreat, the frosted trees glittering like a thousand tiny stars under the moonlight. The cabin was a cozy little haven tucked into a clearing, and—much to Astarion’s chagrin—it was just a stone’s throw from Waterdeep. Gale had decided to settle there for the season, his tower becoming a makeshift headquarters for the rest of your unruly band of renegades.

Despite the warmth of the crackling fire and the fragrant scent of mulled wine filling the room, the evening had taken a predictably irreverent turn. The cabin, under your determined effort, had been transformed into a true yuletide grotto. Strings of holly and ivy adorned the mantle, their waxy leaves catching the firelight, while bright red ribbons and baubles hung from the rafters.

Astarion lounged on the velvet settee he had “liberated” from Gale’s study, his glass of wine tilted lazily in one hand, crimson eyes glinting with their usual mischief. “You can’t seriously believe in this… Hogfather nonsense,” he drawled, his voice dripping with amusement.

You had been carefully arranging a hand-carved figurine of the Hogfather on the mantle when he spoke. The little wooden boars pulling the sleigh gleamed in the firelight, lovingly polished as part of the tradition.

“Think about it,” Astarion continued, swirling his wine. “A jolly, porcine deity sneaking into homes to reward mortals for their good behavior? Darling, if it was any other time of the year if a strange figure wandered in here unannounced, you’d have your blade at their throat before they could utter a single ‘Ho ho ho.’ Face it: this so-called deity is a creep. Or at best… a pervert.”

You turned sharply, clutching the figurine as if it could defend itself. “It’s not nonsense,” you insisted, your voice firm despite the heat rising in your cheeks. “It’s tradition. The Hogfather watches over those who honor him—especially those who still believe. Don’t be flippant, Astarion.”

He smirked, fangs glinting. “Oh, of course. Because nothing says ‘divine benevolence’ like a giant pig handing out trinkets. I suppose you’re leaving out milk and carrots for him, too?”

“Milk and porridge,” you corrected with a huff, returning to your task. “And the carrots are for the boars pulling his sleigh.”

Astarion laughed, the sound soft but biting, like frost crunching underfoot. “You’re adorable when you’re being naive,” he teased, leaning back with a contented sigh.

Despite his teasing, Astarion helped you. He couldn’t seem to resist. He complained about the garlands of holly and ivy as he hung them, bemoaning their impracticality and calling them “archaic woodland clutter.” He wrinkled his nose at the strong brandy-infused porridge, muttering about the waste of perfectly good alcohol, but helped set it out by the hearth anyway. And when you asked him to hang the stockings, he sighed dramatically, muttering, “I’d rather be removing stockings than hanging them,” but did as you asked.

By the time the preparations were finished, the cabin glowed with a warmth even Astarion couldn’t deny. The air was rich with the scents of spice and pine, and the firelight danced on the polished decorations. It was… comforting. Almost nostalgic, though Astarion couldn’t quite place why, his family would never honor such as pagan belief.

You lit a single candle and set it on the windowsill, the flame flickering softly as snow continued to fall outside. “An invitation,” you explained. “For the Hogfather to visit.”

“Are we quite finished now?” Astarion asked, stifling a fake yawn. “I’d hate for the great and powerful Hogfather to find you awake past your bedtime and skip over us entirely.”

You shot him a glare but ignored his jibes, retreating to bed with a contented smile.

xxxxxx

The next morning, you woke to an unfamiliar sound: the soft shuffle of bare feet on wooden floors.

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you sat up to find Astarion pacing near the hearth, his usually graceful movements replaced by something tense and hesitant. He was turning something over in his hands—a ring with an elegant design, the gold catching the morning light.

“What’s that?” you asked, your voice still thick with sleep as you slipped out of bed.

He glanced at you, his usual smirk absent, replaced by something… quieter. “I… found it,” he said slowly. “In my stocking.”

Your heart quickened. “You’re joking.”

“I assure you, I’m not.” He held the ring up for you to see, the delicate craftsmanship undeniable. “And it came with this.”

He handed you a piece of parchment, the script on it flowing and ornate:

For taking such good care of my devoted believer, I thought you deserved a gift of your own. Wear it well. - The Hogfather

Your breath caught. “It’s real,” you whispered, the vindication almost too much to process.

Astarion, however, remained skeptical. “It’s likely some sort of trick,” he muttered, turning the ring over in his hands. “Probably enchanted. I wouldn’t—”

Before he could finish, the ring slipped from his fingers, seemingly of its own accord, and slid onto his hand. There was a blinding flash of light, and Astarion staggered, gripping the mantle for support. When the light faded, his eyes widened in shock.

“I… I’m breathing,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He pressed a trembling hand to his chest, feeling the steady, unfamiliar thrum of a heartbeat. “By the gods…”

You reached for him, your own hands trembling as you touched his face. His skin was warm now, a faint flush coloring his cheeks. His crimson eyes had softened into a mossy blue, human and vibrant. His fangs still peaked out but the harshness was softened by his golden skin.

“It’s real,” you repeated, tears brimming in your eyes.

Astarion stared at you, his expression unreadable as his hand covered yours. Then, for the first time in what felt like centuries, he smiled—soft and unguarded.

“Perhaps,” he murmured, “there’s more to this Hogfather business than I thought.”

That morning, the two of you celebrated the Hogfather’s generosity. Though Astarion claimed to still find the whole concept absurd, you noticed he hung the offering of thanks upon the hearth with much less complaint.

As the snow continued to fall outside, you couldn’t help but think that miracles—no matter how improbable—were always worth believing in.

Sooooooo what you think? Hopefully this is the first of many winter stories!

LIKE. COMMENT. REQUEST

[kifflepiffles]

Festival Skipper

Sam x AFAB (neutral terms) reader

Because I'm a new Sam simp and realised you guys are STARVING

Word count: 5.7k

Content: Praise, softdom Sam, smutty hurt/comfort, and tbh a lot of goofing around because I doubt Sam would be super serious AKJSHD Also because I just never really liked dirty talking that much

I'll edit this post more and post this to A03 later... I'm going to eep, it's past my bedtime

Update: its up on A03! And if you wanted more immersion, heres the playlist I listened to while writing this AKAHSH

Shoutout to @loverboykirstein for letting me use your banner -7-;;

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

Winters in the valley were always calm and slow. Quiet and beautiful, the villagers embraced the icy scenes while waiting for their home to come back to life. 

Calm, slow, quiet, and beautiful were all things that [y/n] had gotten used to over the past year of living on their grandfather’s old farm. A calm environment, a slower life, and quiet, beautiful surroundings had dissolved all of the ailments they lived with on a daily basis in Pine-Messa city. The hopelessness, the burn-out, the anxiety and insatiable exhaustion had been left in their Joja cubicle. 

But winter was different. This was an all-consuming, eerie kind of quiet. you had only started getting fully used to the brand new silence and slow living in the fall. You were far from ready to be plunged head-first into the abyss that is Pelican Town’s winters. There was genuinely nothing to do, and you couldn’t stand it. The Adventurer’s Guild has been your saving grace. It was something to keep you busy. But lately, you have been a bit too busy for comfort.

The usually cheery and social farmer had seemingly gone missing for a few days. The guild has given you a quest that they thought you were ready for, but you proved to be in over your head, even if you wouldn’t admit it. 150 slimes needed to be slain by the end of the week. Today was the last day, and you had only dealt with 90. Marlon was annoyed, and had given you a stern talk about the guild policy.

 “These slimes are breeding like rabbits!” He would hiss, “If they head upwards, guess what? The town is fucked, [y/n]. fucked!” His voice grit in the farmer’s skull like sandpaper. Your teeth grinded with rage over Marlon’s thoughtless blame. 

For the first time in days, you had plopped down on your living room couch and unlocked your phone. What seemed like hundreds of notifications flooded in. Missed texts from Abby, from Sam, even from Sebastian. Arching a brow, you scrolled down on the notification block to read more

Rock Eater

[Image]

[image]

[image]

3

Johnnie Gilbert’s lookalike

Where are you?

 I thought you would like the ice festival :(

Dog Boy

[Y/N]!!!

WHERE ARE YOU?? >_<

YOU NEED TO KICK WILLY’S ASS AT FISHING

PLEASE I MADE A BET WITH SEB I CAN’T LOSE

+17

“Fuck,” you whispered to yourself. You had been so caught up in the slime bounty that you completely forgot one of the festivals. It sounded like a fun one, too. It was a tradition older than Pelican Town itself. The festival started as a ritual to ward off winter depression, but it was given the Christmas treatment and now centered around ice carving, fishing and shopping. Abigail even sent a picture of the Gotoran cart merchant’s pig in a little jacket.

With a heavy sigh, you tossed your phone to the other side of the couch and rubbed your face. you’d answer them later. Right now, the last thing you wanted was to explain why you were gone. So why not pretend to be gone for a few more hours? It’s already been days. 

Slumping down against the plush of the couch, [y/n] turned on the new TV you had just bought from Robin, a smart TV in limited stock. You knew you had to grab one while you could; Tech products like that were a bit of a rarity in the valley. They were hard to get unless you wanted to travel to the cities, or pay a ridiculous shipping fee. 

Curling up against the armrest with a blanket, your brain went on autopilot as a streaming service booted so you could watch a comfort show. With your head resting on the armrest like it was a pillow, you found your arms clutching over your torso. Usually a plushy would sit there, but you couldn’t be bothered to get up. You didn’t even notice your blinks slowly becoming longer, filled with tranquility, until…

knockknockknockknockknock

The heavy, yet gentle knocking had made you jump out of your skin. Your eyes darted around as your body tried to come back to life. Hesitantly, you let your legs leave the blanket.

Knockknockknockknock

“Just a sec-!” you called out whilst scurrying to your feet. Oh Yoba, please don’t be Lewis asking for bills or Pam asking for more homemade alcohol. 

You quickly tried to fix your clothes and hair as they walked over to the door. You needed to look somewhat presentable if you wanted to avoid excusing your disappearance. Upon opening the door, A heavy load flew off your shoulders; It was just Sam

“Oh thank fuck,” you huffed. your heart rate slowed and you let your head rest on his shoulder. 

Your friendship was odd. You two were close. Really close. Not to say you weren’t also close to Sebastian and Abby, but this was… different. You were touchy. Everyone but you two acknowledged the tension and hesitance. 

“Hey,” Sam whispered, lazily wrapping a heavy arm around you. . His skin was cold, chilled to the bone from the frigid night. “I left the festival early to check on you. I… haven’t heard from you in days, I was getting worried,”

“Sorry,” you whined, “It's been… rough,” you sighed. A breeze flew by, causing both of you to shudder. “Here, come in, maybe I’ll start something in the kettle,” you invited, Which Sam quickly obliged. 

“Really? That’d be awesome, thank you so much [y/n]! You got any more of that mint hot chocolate? It was sick!” He suggested, closing the door behind him with his foot

“I can do that,” you hummed, grabbing your kettle off the stove and filling it in the sink

A shiver ran through Sam’s bones as removed his snow boots, leaving them at the door and made his way to the couch while you were occupied with the drinks. While sitting down, he rubbed his hands together and sighed into them in a sad attempt to warm them, 

“Um… Where have you been again?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you as you returned and sat next to him. You paused and took a breath. Did you really want to open these flood gates?

“Marlon,” you finally grumbled, “Adventurer’s guild stuff. Slimes are breeding like crazy, which is odd because they usually don’t start until Spring. They’re starting to infest entire floors and rise closer to the surface. We’ll keep it under control but… Spring might be rough. I might need to cut back on my crop load” you vented. The release made you release tension in your face that you didn’t know you had., Sam’s smile contorted into a look of worry.

“Holy shit, dude. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you insisted as you rubbed your face with open hands, as if attempting to scrub off the stress and sleep deprivation “Just,, hnnnggff,” You leaned forward, placing Your elbows on your own knees. “Marlon’s been on my ass, dude. Bad,”

“That’s not fair, he was at the festival earlier,”

“He was?” you snapped up with wide eyes

“Yeah! he cheered Willy on for the fishing competition,”

Suddenly, you felt your blood run hot, “That motherfucker,” you hissed. As if timed for this exact moment, the kettle began to whistle, and Sam had tried his best to keep his giggling quiet

In a swift motion, you stood from the couch and made your way over to the kitchen, “I’ll put arsenic in your drink,” you threatened as you opened the cupboard and grabbed two mugs along with the box of powdered drink mix. As grumpy as you were, his laughter was contagious. You needed to bite the inside of your cheek and clench your jaw to avoid giggling with him

“Aww, come ooon. You know you love me,” Sam teased. you rolled your eyes, ignoring the fact he was kind of right

“Please,” you giggled. After a few noises from the kitchen, you returned with two steaming mugs in hand and placed them on the coffee table. you plopped down beside your best friend, a heavy, slow sigh leaving your lips, “That mother fucker… was he seriously there?”

Sam tilted his head and hummed a curt “Hm?” 

“Marlon,” you whined. You shifted in your spot, then leaned your head on his shoulder. Sam’s eyes darted down at you. He had to admit, he felt a bit of pity for you. How could he not?. With a slow breath, he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and nodded

“Yeah. He was. … Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, just… ugh, forget it,”you grumbled. You snuggled into your friend’s body, wanting to hide from the rest of the world with him. His jacket had just been washed, but the smell of weed still lingered under the faint scent of detergent. Domesticity was something that you had to admit you craved. It’s been a long time since you loved someone, and out of everyone in the small town, Sam may be your best candidate. You tilted your head up once you decided to stop hiding. Your gaze met his own for just a second before he anxiously looked away. A smirk tugged at your lips. You had to admit, his coyness was cute.

“I really missed you, y’know,” you commented. You kept your head down, but looked up through your eyelashes, a calculated puppy-eye to test the waters. Sam looked back down to you. A small smile joined the pink blush on his face

“Really? I mean, I uh, I really missed you, too,  [y/n]. I… I really did,” He stammered out with an embarrassed grin. Yoba, he was adorable. you snuggled closer, letting your hand rest on his thigh

“I like,, really missed you, Sammy

Sam’s eyes slowly widened as he started to realize what you were implying, “... Did you?” He whispered back, turning his body to face yours more, “...It really was quiet around here without you,”

Then there was silence. His wide, sweet blue eyes met yours, but you were focused on his lips. A precious mauve pink, complemented by the silver hoop filling his single lip piercing. The flesh looked smooth and soft, you couldn’t help but wonder if he had done that on purpose, in hopes you would kiss him one day. A slow blink adjusted your gaze to meet Sam’s eyes.

As if someone had told both of you that now was the moment, both of you leaned in. When your lips met, Sam’s hand moved to cup your cheek, just to feel a bit closer to you as his lips tingled from the contact.

Despite it being brief, the two of them had pulled away from the kiss with beaming grins and flushed faces. 

“... wow,” Sam whispered through shy giggles. How could you not share his laughter? He was so cute. If he had a tail, your drinks would be all over the floor and the mugs would be broken. His pretty eyes seemed to glisten in the light from the television and crackling fireplace, it being the only light in the whole cabin.

With a bright red face, Sam fidgeted with his hands, unsure of what to do next, let alone what he was allowed to do. He was terrified to overstep a boundary and ruin this moment, the kind he would dream of at night and wake up from in a wet spot. 

“Here Sammy, come here,” you whispered, placing your hands on top of his to guide him. his hands landed on your collarbone. You led him downwards, and directed his hands to cup your breasts. His eyes widened and his lips parted, making you giggle in a whisper

“Sam… are you… inexperienced?” you asked, trying to phrase it lightly. Sam swallowed, but seemed mesmerized by the warm, clothed flesh in his hands. He shook his head,

“Not exactly… just… It’s been a while. A long while, And I really like you,” he whispered. His eyes didn’t even twitch off of your body as his hands began to grope. Before you could question him, his eyes finally darted to your face. “Uh,, can I… is it okay if I keep touching you? I.. I want to explore a little bit," he asked. The sentence making its way past his lips was enough to feel himself swell into his jeans, the fit quickly becoming snug on him. With a smug grin, you nodded.

Sam leaned down, pushing you down into the couch. His irises seemed to tremble along with his hands as he took in the view beneath him. He couldn’t help but admire his beloved friend. You were prettier to him than anything his imagination could ever build. His fingertips snuck under your shirt, just to explore the body beneath it. A shiver ran up your spine from the contact, feeling the sensation get stronger and sweeter as his calloused pads ran upwards, then back down and towards the front, running down your ribcage and pausing at the belly button.

 Even though the sight and sensation was blissful, you continued to worry. You continued to worry about the trouble you may be in with the guild. Then you remembered the fun Marlon must’ve had at the festival you unwillingly missed… the fun he stole from you.

A stuttering hum crept up from your throat as Sam’s hands trailed down to your hips. Feeling his thumbs gently trace your hip bones, you gazed down at him 

“Sam?” 

Sam’s hand’s paused and his eyes flickered back up to meet yours.

 “Yeah?” He asked. 

There was silence again. Well, now you had to admit, you were a little embarrassed. But you already had his attention. Your stomach churned and you looked over at the wall to break eye contact.

“... Was he having fun?”

“... huh?”

“Nevermind, nevermind,” you stammered out. Sam sat up a bit,

“[y/n], if you don’t want to this this, I totally–”

“No!” you nearly shouted, making Sam jump, “Sorry,, I… I really want you. Please. Let's keep going,”

“Okay… okay,” Sam mumbled with a nod. 

He lowered his body again, letting his chest land on yours. He planted a kiss on your cheek, then another. He was so sweet…

He let his peppered kisses travel down, to your jaw, then to the side of your neck. His gentle, warm hand landed on your cheek again, and you let yours trail upward on his temple, your fingers tangling his hair

“I just…” You sighed out, staring at the ceiling. Sam stopped what he was doing and lifted his head again. You could’ve sworn a whine left his lips. He stared at you, like a dog waiting for a treat.

“I can’t believe he would do that and not tell me, he stressed me the fuck out all damn week-”

“[Y/N], are you sure you don’t want to pause and talk about this? Because I’m totally cool-”

“No, no, I’m sorry, please keep kissing me,”

Sam hesitated for a moment, but just shook his head and sighed, admitting defeat (and slight disbelief) with a raise of his eyebrows. His shy hands wandered back under the hem of your shirt, and his soft lips landed back on your neck, trailing towards your shoulder. His hands wandered up, his touch lingering on your rib cage until his hands landed on your bare breasts. A perverted smile tugged at his lips as he massaged at them and let his palms flatten against your nipples. A hum rose from our throat, you had to admit it felt good. Especially since it was him. Your hand ran through his hair, yet you continued to stare at the ceiling. You wanted to be immersed so badly, to surrender, but for some reason, you couldn’t make the leap…

“Y’know, I don't think I’d even be so bothered if h—”

“Alright,” Sam interrupted. In a fit of becoming a bit annoyed, he clasped his hand over your mouth and leaned over you. Your eyes grew wide and you quickly shut up. His head leaned down next to yours, his warm breath petting your earlobe, 

“Here’s what we’re gonna do.” 

He adjusted himself so that his weight was supported by his elbows and he raised his other hand: a clenched fist with his pinky finger up.

“Pinky promise me this is what you want. No feeling bad, no “sure why not”. You want this. You want me, truly,”

You were a bit stunned. This was almost uncharacteristic of him. But you had to admit, you kind of liked it. Though without hesitation, you lifted your hand and interlocked your finger with his.

“Okay, good,” He removed his hand from your mouth, using it instead to brush his knuckles against your cheek, “I’m gonna try something, okay? Nod if that’s okay,”

Your cheeks heated up, and you quickly nodded.

“Okay, perfect, awesome,” Sam mumbled to himself. His hand began to trace down your waist again, slowly. “I need you to stop talking for me, okay?” He whispered in your ear before kissing your temple. His finger trailed your hip bone, threatening to dip under your waistband. “I need you to clear your mind, as best you can. I need you to release that tension in your jaw,” 

Slowly, his finger dipped under your waistband, simply caressing the skin underneath,

“And I need you to surrender yourself, and let me make you feel good. Can you do that for me?”

His voice was soothing and loving, gentle and coy. But his words, they were so, so hot. His breath was hot, running down your neck. it made your crotch begin to throb. It made your breathing quicken with anticipation.

“Mhm…” You hummed with a nod, your voice faltering under the situation.

“Good, good,” 

His hand crawled even lower, until it met your lower lips. Despite being excited, he kept it slow. Carefully, he slipped one finger into your lips, then a second one, and spread them apart. 

“You’re… wow… you’re really wet,” He whispered, mostly to himself with wide blue eyes. His fingers explored the new territory a bit, grazing on the labia until his fingertip found itself on your clit. 

Your body spasmed, and a slightly startled gasp left your lips. His teasing drove you mad.

“I know, honey, I know. It’s okay,," He whispered, tilting his head downwards until his breath caressed the shell of your ear. "That’s an outside problem. It’s just you and me in here, baby, Okay?" His whispers echoed within your foggy head, and he began to press loving kisses onto your cheek again. 

He rubbed the thick, calloused pad of his finger over your clit, rubbing back and forth at a painfully slow pace, “Just like that. Good. ... You’re doing so good, sweetpea,” It left his soft lips in a delicate whisper, as if it was a secret for you and you alone.

 You reeled your head towards his. A helpless whine passed your lips and your back arched, revealing just how pent up you let yourself become over these past few weeks. It was a manifestation of how many times you pushed down your feelings for your beloved skater boy. 

He kept it going for a little, letting your body warm up while lewd whimpers and hums echoed into his ear. Such a sweet noise for him, one that made him rock his hips into the couch cushions with a groan 

“You’re so cute, you know that? Especially like this,’ He teased, 

The graceful movements of his hand slowed, leaving you to pout. Though your attitude switched up quickly once you realized he stopped so he could take his shirt off. You sat up, a new wave of excitement rushing over you.

“Lets go to my room,” You suggested in a hushed voice, as if anyone else was around to hear you aside from your pet. Sam dropped his shirt to the floor and smiled, the chain around his neck with his father’s old dog tag jingling as he moved

“Sounds good,” He agreed, “wait, we should try that thing they do in movies, y’know, where they’re trying to kiss and remove their clothes at the same time while going to the bedroom. It’ looks kind of fun”

Ah,There was the idiot Sam you knew and loved.

You couldn’t help but laugh and nod, “Okay, let's try it,”

Sam had become a bit shy again, “Wait, time out,” He muttered before he unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, letting the bulge in his navy blue cotton underwear a bit more free, “Sorry, it got tight, It kind of hurt, time in,”

You snorted and covered your mouth with your hand, giving into your fit of giggling,

“What? It did!” Sam tried to defend, before the giggling overcame him too, “I’m sorry dude, I’m just, absolutely packing, y'know? I can’t keep my foot-long contained in these skinny jeans, he’s gotta breathe,” He joked between gasps and laughter, making the both of you erupt

“Okay, okay,” you said in an attempt to calm the situation, “Okay, come here and kiss me pretty boy,” You flirted, making a ‘come closer’ motion with your hand. He obliged and pressed his body to yours, taking your jaw in his hands and letting your lips collide. 

Both of your lips parted, deepening your kiss and allowing the tips of your tongues to meet each other. His hands wandered to the hem of your shirt again, this time pulling it up,

“C’mon, let's try to move a bit,” Sam suggested, shifting backwards while you shifted forward,

“Left Left, right left,, I don’t know my right from left,” Sam softly sung while pulling your shirt over your head, making you giggle more,

“What was that?” You asked,

“A military marching cadence my dad taught me when I was a kid. I just remembered it because this is… a lot harder than they make it look in the movies,” he rambled, the two of you giggled together again. With a grin, sam dropped your shirt to the floor and pecked you on the lips, 

“Maybe I’ll teach you the whole chant later,” He placed his hands on your bare waist, and turned so he could gently push you against your living room wall, “I’m a little busy right now,” 

“It’s a date,” You agreed with a rasp in your voice. You tilted your head to the side, letting Sam begin to nibble at your neck, this time with more intention than his gentle kisses. One hand found its way back to your face, the other found its way back to your breasts to continue his soft squeezing and massaging. He let his teeth sink into your skin, over your collarbone and shoulder. He kissed the bite marks he left, and carefully sucked some, leaving bruises, hickies, and your whimpers in his wake. 

“Sam…” You whined, “Mm,, You’re driving me crazy,,”

“Yeah?” He hummed, leaving one final kiss on your neck, “Come on,” He took your hand in his. His pretty eyes flicked at yours, and he placed a kiss on the back of your hand with a grin before pulling you back towards your room.

Your body collapsed into your mattress as Sam kneeled on the floor beside your bed frame. He began to work his way down, placing kisses between your breasts and down your abdomen. His hands took a firm grip of your hips. With a bit of a haste, he pulled down your pants and took a moment to admire you, your almost naked body with nothing but underwear. A big smile cracked his face

You looked down at him, feeling a little nervous,

“Is everything alright…?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” He assured, his eyes seeming to glow, “I’m just… You’re so pretty,” he whispered. He gazed up at you, his eyes meeting yours as he attempted something new; He grabbed the hem of your underwear in his teeth, and slowly dragged it down your legs.

Yoba… you could feel your hole start throbbing.

‘Heh,, learned that one from a comic Seb showed me,” he admitted a bit bashfully. You put your hand over your mouth to hide your smile and turned your head. Of course he would say that.

He took a second to admire you yet again, but the sight in front of him teased him beyond just gazing,,

He dragged his fingertips up your labia again, stopping once he reached your clit and flicking his eyes up so he can watch you squirm

“Where did we leave off?” He teased, “Something like this… right?” 

He continued his back and forth motion, regaining his confidence as he watched your face contort and heard your restrained moans. He let his pace quicken, and let his other hand begin to tease your hole with another fingertip. 

“Sammy…” You whimpered. Your walls throbbed and clenched around nothing, waiting very impatiently for him to make his move.

“Patience, honey… patience,” He cooed, letting his finger run a small circle over the rim before sinking in. You let out a groan and tilted your head back. Once pushing in to the second knuckle, he began to pull out, push in and pull out, then added a second finger. He leaned his body closer, keeping the pumps of his hand slow and methodical. You gripped at the blanket beneath you and let a small moan pass your lips. He was doing it on purpose

“Sammy… come on…” You whimpered, rocking your hips against his hand. He obliged, allowing his fingers to sink deeper and faster, an upward curl joining the routine as he leaned even closer. He moved his other hand away from your clit, and instead replaced it with his tongue. Soft, shy flicks of the tip of his tongue joined the rhythm of his hand. His masterpiece, and the finishing touch to his symphony was the moaning and mewling that left your chest. 

“Fuck-!” you cried out. Your knees began to tremble around his body, your nails scratched into your forearms and your hips rocked. In a fit of needing something to hold onto, your hands quickly switched to holding his shoulders.

Sam picked up his pace again, the tips of his fingers rubbing your walls and his head bobbing a bit for more movement. The velvety feeling grew stronger and stronger. You dug your nails into his skin, making him groan into your crotch, his voice reverberating into your core. 

“Ugh,, Sam! I’m so… I’m…!” You tried to whine, but the sweet sensation he provided made it hard to speak.

“I know, I know,” He hummed, “Give in, it’s okay,”

You threw your head back, a howl escaping your chest while your thighs vibrated. Your hole spasmed around his fingers as liquid arousal dripped around them, and your clit twitched in his mouth. 

“Fuck! Sammy-!” you whined, followed by one more long groan. He slowed down, helping you ride out the high of your first orgasm in weeks. 

Your body went limp and he leaned back. He extracted his fingers, and noticed how hot his face was. His skin was bright red, his eyes were puffy. And he was ecstatic. 

He crawled up into your bed with you, immediately kissing your face like a puppy,

“That was perfect. Beautiful,” He praised, “You did so good, so good,” He laid on his side, gazing at you while you continued to come down and catch your breath. You turned your head to face him, and a smile tugged at your lips. 

“...Round two?” you asked. Sam’s attention piqued. 

“Really? I figured I would give you an extra minute,” He commented. Not that he was complaining though. He stood up, and his knees cracked from kneeling on the hardwood floor

“Ow, holy shit!” He yelped, more so in shock than in pain. Even after having one of the roughest orgasms of your life, he made you giggle.

“You okay, honey?” you asked through deep breaths and giggles,

“Yeah, holy shit,”

He pulled down the waistband of his undone, sagging jeans. Seeing that your eyes were still on him, he decided to raise his hands beside his head and wiggle his hips in a hula hoop motion, earning a laugh from the both of you. You turned onto your side, watching as he kicked off his jeans and pinched the waistband of his briefs.

He pulled them down, and your eyes nearly popped out of your skull. It wasn’t the foot-long he pretended to have, but at first glance he could’ve maybe had you convinced. What bounced out proved Abby’s speculation of him being well hung. He was thick, and blushed dark red with arousal. 

You crawled back towards your pillows, and he joined you on your bed. 

He leaned over you again, the dog tag around his neck hanging down and laying against the skin of your chest. 

Your legs opened around his hips, and you bit your lip with anticipation. The tip of his penis rubbed on your wet slit, making him puff up his cheeks a bit. He was already so worked up, but didn’t want this to end so fast. He flicked his eyes to yours, and stabled himself on his elbows so his hands could touch your face.

“Don’t worry. I promise I’ll be gentle,” He whispered, “You ready?”

You nodded, and he adjusted his body so he could line up with you and grab your shoulders. He paused for a second, then began to slowly push in. 

both of you gasped. There was a slight, sweet sting with the stretch as he tried his best to keep moving so he could keep the friction going. As you encapsulated him, a groan left his throat. 

“Shit,” He whined, “You’re fucking great, [Y/N]” he mustered out, giving you a rush as he began to pull out, then push back in and begin a steady pace, or at least attempt to. It took everything for him to not fuck the shit out of you, but he knew he could never. You were too precious to him, the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you. 

Your arms hooked under his and you let out a groan. You felt him rocking through your whole body, filling the room with a squelching noise, heavy breathing and the quiet creaks of your bed,

“More?” He asked with a bit of a strain, almost as if he was begging, 

“Please,” You huffed. He picked up his pace, allowing himself to go deeper. In and out, in and out, his tip began to rub against the rough spot inside you, shooting electric pulses through your body. 

“Hnn-! Sam!” you yelped, making his body heat up. “Good,, So good!” You let out, a sad attempt to mimic his praises and sweet nothings that got you so riled up in the first place.

 With a guttural groan, he adjusted himself, attempting to get a better angle and speeding up again. The creaking of your bed gradually turned into a rocking. The heavy breathing gradually turned into a song of pleasure and bliss. The squelching turned into an arrangement of continuous wet friction. 

Your back arched as his tip began to kiss your cervix and massage your favorite spot. Your head reeled back against your pillow as Sam’s tilted down, watching you squirm and writhe worked him up more and more. 

“[Y/N]... I’m… getting really close, [Y/N]” he whimpered, 

“I am too, Sammy,” You mewled. You reached down through what little space there was between the two of you and began to rub on your own clit. It only took a few rubs for your body to spasm and for you to yowl.

You began to see stars as your hole throbbed and convulsed around Sam, turning his thrusts sloppy and rough. It pushed him to the edge as well.

 He whined and moaned out, grabbing tightly onto your upper arms so he could rock himself through his orgasm. Ropes and pearls of hot semen shot out from him into you. 

He slowed down into a stop, this time leaving both of you panting. With a tired groan, he pulled out and let his body ragdoll beside yours. 

“Are you okay, sweetpea?” he asked through heavy breaths. You turned over to face him and nodded,

“Yeah, I’m okay, I’m alright,” you assured, leaning into his touch while he pushed strands of hair out of your face. 

The two of you gazed at each other, taking the other’s fucked-out looks; face red, hair a wreck, eyes glimmering. 

“You did so good, honey,” You hummed, attempting once again to mimic his praises. You planted kisses over his face, making him grin and chuckle with what little energy he had left,

“Come here,” he mumbled, pulling you into his arms so he could snuggle his head into your shoulder. 

“...What are you going to tell your mom?” you asked, using your knuckles to pet his hair,

“I’m sure she’ll understand. She knew I was leaving early to see you. … I’ll probably sleep over though, I really don’t want to deal with that right now. Ugh, I’m so lucky she and my dad like you.”

A smile spread on your face as you allowed yourself to reciprocate his snuggling. Though Sam spoke up again,

“... What are you gonna do about Marlon?”

[lissa612]

I’m a shopping addict and have hoarding disorder.

I have gone through multiple phases of trying to declutter my home and this year as a New Years Resolution I decided to really address my spending by doing a very low-key low buy “year” (very low-key…going for the good in a good/better/best outlook on self improvement) by recording everything I spend and categorizing it. Already for this month I know I spent more than I made which is so frustrating, but I know that deficit comes from paying off Christmas purchases and spending for a planned trip in May. And some pet spending involved stocking up using deals that were time sensitive so that should show in my February spending there. So not beating myself up over anything until I have more data.

But I have also been VICIOUS in my decluttering. So far I have 12 full shopping bags plus 3 boxes and a little rolling rack to go to a donation center. And SO MANY old and half used make up and self care products have been put in the trash. And I feel okay about it most of the time (except when I think about how much money I spent but I’m trying to avoid that most of the time…And that’s what the low buy is designed to address going forward).

I live alone…I have 2 full sets of dishes. 1 full set of ~okay drinking glasses I purchased to replace a set I love that had a few glasses that broke…But I still had a fully usable set of 4 loved glasses I could have used. 3 sets of mixing bowls. 3 pie pies (rarely use any). 3 loaf pans (again, rarely use any). Tons of baking accessories for my instant pot - I never bake in my instant pot. 2 in-pot steamer baskets I never use. Metal reusable straws I don’t use because I chipped a tooth on one. All this extra stuff is now boxed/bagged in my hallway ready to go.

I still have more yarn than I will ever need for a lifetime of crochet and more fleece than I will need for a lifetime of making things for my guinea pigs or cats…But that isn’t going anywhere. I want it and will not force myself to part with it. But I won’t be buying more. There’s definitely cost in storing this stuff I don’t “need” but I’m going for good and I think I’m there for the moment even with this concession.

Progress!

[stringsnwires]

Do you like to eat, Engie?

I like my gullet bein' stuffed like a pig on death row, Partner.

There ain't no thing better than kickin' back with a full belly, three or four cool beers in a portable ice box, and football on the television after a hearty BBQ with the Boys. But snacks in the Shop are just as good.

Lookin' forward to tomorrow, yunno.

I'll even get to teach Pyro a thing or two about the grill, get Jane busy, and probably shoot a deer or two with ole Mickey. We don't always go out, so even if we're home, we'll stock up on beverages n play corn hole n darts n pool n whathaveyou. Medic always has hisself a grand time, gigglin' at every little thing after a few beers. It sets Support off, which gets Scout goin' (not that he needed help) n then the rest'a Offense.

Favorite time'a the year ain't no Christmas, but every night we're all together like that.

[guineapiggies]

Via ninninninsillusts

[myheadsgonenumb]

OK - so as part of my ongoing series of tips to help Harry Potter authors who aren't British write Hogwarts authentically, I posted about food and mealtimes yesterday.

(here)

And I said I would do a post dedicated just to Christmas Dinner and its traditions (an important part of any Hogwarts fic!), so that's what I'm going to talk about today.

First up, I'm sure most people do know thanks to the ubiquity of Anglosphere Christmas movies (not least A Christmas Carol) but - unlike some other European countries where the main gift giving and celebration happen at different times over the 12 days - the UK celebrates on the 25th itself. Therefore whenever Harry is opening his presents or eating Christmas Dinner (or attending the Yule Ball), this is always the 25th December.

So, back to the actual topic -

Despite being called Christmas Dinner this is the meal that Harry eats in the middle of the day, so it is in fact his Christmas lunch. I assume it is called "Dinner" because it is the cooked, main meal of the day (I will talk about Christmas tea later).

Main course

First up - the traditional meat eaten at Christmas in the UK is turkey (if you go way back, it would be goose, but turkey has been in the ascendancy for a good few centuries now). Not everyone has turkey, but turkeys and Christmas are intrinsically linked in the UK to the extent that there is a phrase "it's like turkeys voting for Christmas" when talking about someone choosing to do something that is so clearly against their best interests. Hogwarts always serves turkeys at Christmas, in the books.

Turkey is roasted, and served with "all the trimmings" - which means gravy (made from the turkey stock), stuffing, roast potatoes, mashed potatoes, vegetables and pigs in blankets.

The vegetable most commonly associated with Christmas is brussel sprouts, but parsnips are also popular. There aren't really hard and fast rules on veg, people will serve the ones they like the best, but sprouts are non -negotiable.

It is sort of a joke in Britain that this is the most important meal of the year, it's the one that takes the longest to cook and no one really likes it. (But that's because they are overcooking their turkeys and are wrong about sprouts - it is my absolute favourite meal in the world).

Roast beef is considered the national dish of England, and roast beef and all the trimmings is commonly made and eaten every Sunday (or you go to a pub and have it). If you hear Brits talking about "Sunday lunch" this is what they are referring to (roast beef comes with yorkshire puddings, and often cauliflower cheese, and doesn't include sprouts or pigs in blankets). As this is such a commonly eaten dish, the turkey at Christmas is something different - and made special because it is eaten so rarely. Turkey is only eaten at Christmas by many people and it is hard (if not impossible) to get hold of them in supermarkets at other times of the year.

Pudding

As I said in my post yesterday, "pudding" is a catch all term for dessert, but does also have its own specific meaning of something that has been cooked by steaming or boiling inside a cloth. "Christmas Pudding" fits the definition of both:

Christmas Pudding is a very dense dried fruit sponge cake, that has been steamed rather than baked (and so is nothing like a cake to eat). Traditionally it is doused in brandy and set on fire before serving:

I think it's one of those things that you have to have grown up eating to appreciate.

As it is very dry by itself, most people serve it with either brandy butter or pouring cream.

It's also traditional to add little trinkets to the pudding mix before cooking. These end up in individual servings and have meanings. So a silver coin means wealth for the person who finds it, a wishbone means good luck and a thimble means thrift.

In The Philosopher's Stone "Flaming Christmas puddings followed the turkey. Percy nearly broke his teeth on a silver Sickle embedded in his slice." And this tradition is why.

(NB this is British Tradition and Hogwarts is big on that. My family gets our Christmas puddings ready made from the supermarket and microwaves them. The little plastic bowls they come in recently proved very useful for catching the water leaking from my boiler - Tradition and every day life can look very different).

Entertainment

Along with the hilarity of watching people break their teeth on coins and choke on thimbles, the Christmas Cracker is also a staple of Christmas Dinner.

These are Christmas Crackers. Two people take hold of each end and pull, until the cracker is ripped apart (there is a strip of card inside, dipped in silver fulminate, which explodes with the friction and this causes the bang which gives crackers their name).

Inside a cracker there are an assortment of little prizes, and the person who ends up with the bigger half gets to keep them.

The Philosopher's Stone says this about crackers:

"These fantastic party favours were nothing like the feeble Muggle ones the Dursleys usually bought, with their little plastic toys and their flimsy paper hats inside. Harry pulled a wizard cracker with Fred and it didn’t just bang, it went off with a blast like a cannon and engulfed them all in a cloud of blue smoke, while from the inside exploded a rear admiral’s hat and several live, white mice. Up at the High Table, Dumbledore had swapped his pointed wizard’s hat for a flowered bonnet, and was chuckling merrily at a joke Professor Flitwick had just read him."

Real (muggle) crackers always come with a silly joke to read out (which is intentionally bad), a small, plastic gift - a little yoyo, those fortune telling fish, a key ring, a wind up toy etc - and a paper crown

Christmas Dinner (and much of the afternoon) is spent wearing these crowns.

However, magical crackers are much more impressive and - as the quote shows - come with actual (novelty) hats and better gifts. The explosion is more impressive as well.

Christmas Tea

As I said in my post yesterday, "tea" can refer to the evening meal and have nothing to do with the hot drink everyone associates with the British. And this is the case with Christmas tea.

As the main meal was earlier in the day, and so heavy, Christmas tea tends to be served quite late and is less formal, and much lighter. Sometimes it can be a spread of finger foods (dips, cheeses, tempura prawns etc) but Harry Potter keeps things simple and just goes with turkey sandwiches (which are self explanatory).

As its Christmas, there is still a ridiculous amount of pudding to eat (this time in the catch all dessert sense) and this includes Christmas cake - which (like Christmas pudding) is a fruit cake - only this time it has been baked, rather than steamed.

Christmas Cakes are actually baked around October time, and regularly fed with brandy (has holes poked into it and the brandy poured inside) until the day itself.

Christmas cakes are usually covered in marzipan and then covered in Royal Icing (Royal Icing won't stick to the cake itself, so the marzipan acts as a glue). The end result is something like this:

Mince Pies are also a classic Christmas treat. These are usually individual pies, which can be eaten in a couple of bites, and are sweet mincemeat wrapped in pastry. THERE IS NO ACTUAL MEAT IN SWEET MINCEMEAT!! Mince Pies are 100% all dessert.

Sweet mincemeet is a spiced preserve made up of dried fruit and candied fruit.

(If you're thinking there's a lot of dried fruit involved in a British Christmas - yes there is, because winter is a tough time to grow things and the only fruit around (traditionally) was anything that had been dried out and preserved back in the summer.)

Mince pies can either be eaten as they are or served warm with brandy butter or pouring cream.

Finally there is trifle - which is sponge, jelly (jello for Americans), custard, fruit (not dried this time), cream and sherry:

After all this has been eaten, it is time to fall into a food induced coma and swear to never eat again... Until the next day. December 26th is called "Boxing Day" and is a national holiday in the UK - and the party, and the eating, continues.

I hope this helps anyone trying to write a Hogwarts Christmas chapter and fills in some blanks for various passages in the books which must be frankly baffling without context.

As ever, if you have any specific questions please ask in the comments!

[wildshona]

Christmas Day

Christmas Day was great fun. Zoe was up and bouncing around really early but was satisfied by a bulging Christmas stocking. Well, I had a laddered stocking I could spare and it really stretched to allow a lot of toys and treats. That kept her and Amelia occupied for a while as Chris and me put brunch together and then it was presents from under the tree, games, Christmas movies including, inevitably, The Snowman, and then dinner of venison and guinea fowl and lots of red wine. Zoe pigged out on pigs in blankets and chicken. She didn’t have the red wine.

We were very relaxed when Zoe was put to bed. Amelia sat by me on the big sofa and Chris joined us to watch Scrooge. It was all very cosy. We had all dressed for Christmas dinner. Zoe had worn one of her “princess” dresses, Chris looked very casual smart and Amelia and I were in cocktail dresses. Amelia’s was a very daring one she had bought with Toni – not at all what she would have worn a couple of months ago – short, tight and cleavage.

I noticed Chris’s hand settle on Amelia’s knee and then move up to her thigh. He turned in slightly his hand just resting there while we watched the movie. By the time the movie ended his fingers were beginning to sneak under her dress and there were catches in her breathing.

I was so fucking wet. And on edge. Being good around Zoe all day. I needed something. And let’s face it there was a cock inside those trousers. So I slipped off the sofa and moved in front of Chris, unzipped and pulled his cock out. He didn’t react to me. Well, I mean his cock twitched and it was already hard but his attention was with sliding his hand in between Amelia’s legs, pushing the skirt hem up so that her black lacy knickers were visible. Black lacy wet knickers.

Well, what is a girl to do? I slid my tongue up and down his cock and then slipped it into my mouth

Amelia’s hand went on to Chris’s.

We can’t do this here. Zoe. She said.

I’ve never known Zoe wake up but Amelia was right. I stopped sucking, got up, grabbed Amelia by the hand and pulled her into Chris and my bedroom. Chris trailed after, cock hanging out, unbuttoning his shirt.

I pushed Amelia onto the bed, pulling down the top of my dress – easy access naturally – and grabbed hold of Chris to pull him down as well.

Slow down Shona you silly slut.

That was Chris. He is right, of course, men have belts and shoelaces to deal with and we girls had kicked our shoes off. So while he got himself sorted and naked i pulled Amelia’s top down so that her tits bobbed out and then got myself naked and ready.

Well I was going have to play with myself for a while cos Chris had gone straight to Amelia’s tits, sucking milk out of them and unzipping her dress. OK, well I don’t mind finger fucking for a while and seeing how things develop. They developed pretty quick really. Amelia lifted her arse off the bed so that Chris, once he had left the milk bar alone, pulled her dress and knickers off. By which time I decided the milkmaid could deliver for me so I was latched to her tit while Chris started to play with Amelia’s clit.

I mean, Chris is good at teasing a clit and even better when he went down on her. In fact it wasn’t long before she was pushing herself at is mouth. Fucking whore – where did she get that from? Oh, watching me probably.

This was honestly no good, so I pushed the pair of them slightly on to their sides so I could slide down and get his cock back into my mouth. You know how the logistics can be quite difficult in a threesome sometimes especially when one of players has no experience.

I was sucking hungrily away when Chris decided a few minutes later that it was time for another change, I find myself getting moved around and fucking hell Chris is pushing Amelia’s head down between my legs. I mean Amelia has absolutely no experience of this except when I showed how to do it when we were kids. In fact I thought that she would shy away but i had obviously underestimated daddy’s indoctrination of the good girl. Chris was obviously her new Keeper so Amelia did what she was told.

I’ve got to be honest she needs practise but that’s ok, I can live with that. For the moment I was still working on Chris’s cock and balls and easing a finger into his arse.

The next change, and Chris was totally in charge, was me down on Amelia and her mouth round his cock. She is apparently not all that good at blow jobs either but, you know, a girl has to learn sometime even if she has got to 22 with little experience. I would be quite happy to have the cock back but Chris knew where the focus was going to be so in the next change he was balls deep in to Amelia’s cunt and she is bucking like a mad thing as an orgasm hits her which tipped me over the edge as I’m watching with two fingers at work on my own cunt.

Chris normally has a lot of stamina and can keep going but he didn’t want to control himself, he told me later, the plan was to get Amelia comfortable. Well she looked pretty comfortable to me when he came deep into her cunt.

Lying there next to him as his cock softened was pretty poor, I thought, especially when his cum started to ooze out of Amelia’s cunt. Well I believe in being tidy. That’s the way I was taught. So I went to work licking the leftovers off Chris’s cock and them moving down to tidy Amelia up a bit which got a gasp of shock. I am pretty clear she had never heard of a girl taking cum out of another girl.

Chris can’t be kept down especially when i got to work again with my mouth so in the end I got fucked while i drank some more milk.

And that was Christmas Day.

[gremlinshatephilosophers]

How Dan (Almost) Stole Christmas

Every Who Down in Who-ville Liked Christmas a lot…

But Daniel Who lived just outside Who-ville Did not!

Dan hated Christmas! The whole Christmas season! He had good reasons why, but no one asked him those reasons Instead they said that his head wasn’t right They told him instead he was being uptight But cynically, he accepted his fate after all That maybe his heart was just too cold and small.

But Whatever the reason That only he knew He looked out his window, hating the Whos Not in a prejudiced way, he thought with a frown As he envied their warm little houses in town He just knew as much as his life was sad and bleak They were buying more things, those capitalist freaks.

“Who still uses stockings?” he asked with a sneer “More last minute shopping when Christmas is already here!” He sat with his long fingers anxiously tapping “If only I could just stop this all from happening…”

For, Tomorrow, he knew…

… All the who girls and boys And nonbinary Whos too, would rush for those gadgets and toys And then! With thinly lined walls Dan’s ears would fill with noise! It was one of many things he despised, that NOISE!

Then the Whos, young and old, would sit down to a banquet While others went starving, without even a blanket With food in the fridge, fine any other day But not for holidays, they threw it away They would feast on Who-candies and Who-snacks Dan couldn’t stand the perspective they lacked!

And then They’d so something So annoying again All the Whos down in Who-ville and all of their friends Would gather at Who-church with crashing loud bells They’d pray to Who-gods and they’d shout and they’d yell.

Which was a personal gripe, that their singing was mid He really didn’t care about the religions they did But the singing was loud and, again, thin walls So he snapped, and he thought “I’ll just end it all! For thirty-three years I’ve been too polite! But only one of us will make it through this night! … alright?”

Then he got an idea! An insane idea Dan Howell Finally thought of a new idea!

“I know what I’ll do!” Dan laughed till he groaned And he grabbed the only red coat that he owned He was out of his mind, inventing wild tricks But squinting, from a distance, he cosplayed an evil Saint Nick!

“Now for a reindeer…” Dan looked all around But obviously there are no such creatures at home to be found But did it stop him from trying? “Of course not,” he said. “Who needs reindeer when you have a pig instead?” He snatched the cursed item, that sentient pig Broken and golden, but good for the gig.

Then He loaded some bags And more bags, and more All that old plastic From every old store.

In the night he crept out in the cold winter air Dan whipped the pig till it started to fly And they sleighed down cracked streets Racing down from the sky.

The windows weren’t dark, they were steaming TV But they were distracted enough that Dan could roam free When he stopped at his first target with nervous glee He looked at the chimneyed roof and decided “enough!” He could just use the back door with all of his stuff.

The Whos were too trusting, doors left unlocked And Dan opened the latch, and paused to take stock It was far too easy to rob these Who-homes blind He almost felt bad, before he made up his mind They were rich, all decked out in fake stuffed stockings And it was their greed all along he should really be mocking.

He tiptoed about, picking what to take first Around the whole room, choosing what would most hurt They were wealthy and shallow and Dan sure wasn’t that And they were landlords who kept raising the price on his flat So he took down the decor, those ornamental stuffed socks He took the iPhones and Switches and even pet rocks.

He threw the bags to the side and checked on the fridge Took the treats and the ice cream and left only a smidge They deserved to eat, but their plate would be bland He was a merely a thief, you must understand.

He was happy to see the wealthy get humbled But when he got to the tree, he quite nearly stumbled.

Had he gone too far, or was he just too lazy to lift it? His thought were confusing and messy and cryptic But before he could decide, footsteps came near It was a Who that was sleepy, lacking all fear.

Dan had been caught by this strange tired man! Should he play off his actions as some obsessive fan? This was Phil, Dan’s favorite Who-tube star “Don’t fans like you think this is a step too far?”

Dan tried to be fast and think on his feet “I’m so sorry,” he said, “I just wanted something to eat.” “Were you eating my tree?” Phil asked, sarcastic “Well if that’s what this is, I’m sure it’s fantastic.” “That’s a terrible lie, but I’ll get you a snack It might as well stop your little Christmas attack.”

Dan stood there, frozen in place An embarrassing blush crept up in his face He’d been caught by this man who was nothing but kind Why had he planned this, was he out of his mind?

He was out of his depth A one man army couldn’t redistribute wealth And he ran out the door, forgoing all stealth He didn’t want stolen goods, he wanted love, friendship, and health.

But the world wasn’t right And still he was angry, his head filled with shame And he took the stockings with him, one last little game.

So He peeked in the window Of other Who-houses.

Careful He took just one thing each Leaving crumbs for the mouses.

The sun had just rose And the Whos were asleep None of them knows What Dan’s done, not a peep So he tied up the pig and got back on the sled Back to that terrible flat, on a hill, in a shed.

So many feet up, to the bleak northern suburbs The presents all rattled and crinked and shuddered “I hate the materialism and I can’t stand the noise! Maybe now they’ll get a taste of life without toys! They’ll wake up in a moment and cry for their gifts They’ll shut up their singing and be sad for a bit And finally the Whos will understand how the rest of us live!”

And Dan added, “I guess, The crying is fine, as Who-noises go,” And he brought his pig-drawn sled to a halt in the snow.

And he did hear a sound, the echo acoustic It wasn’t them crying, but playing that music!

They weren’t upset Though they still sounded bad But they’d gotten his lesson They didn’t sound sad!

He stared down at Who-ville With shock in his eyes His hands nearly shook As he yelped in surprise!

The Whos had no gifts, even what Dan hadn’t yet snatched They just wanted community, no strings attached?

He hadn’t stopped Christmas from coming! It came! Somehow, yet unsurprisingly, it all came the same!

And Dan, with his cursed pet pig glowing golden Thought about how many stupid trinkets he’d stolen “They don’t need their gifts after all, so I must have been right! But then why is their village still a strange happy sight?” He thought and he thought and he thought up some more But then he gave up in the cold when his head got all sore “Maybe I should have just asked them before I stole all their things, what the glitter was for?”

And what happened then? Well, he wished he could say That he got noise-cancelling headphones and went on his way But deep in his core, he wasn’t really a Grinch The Whos shouldn’t have to do holidays in a pinch So he brought back the gifts, and some Who-food too And he…

… he himself… Dan went back to see Phil and spent a merry Christmas with the Whos!

[cali-cabrera]

Feliz Navidad!

Does you character celebrate Christmas?

Yes! Christmas has always been a big holiday for Cali’s family. 

If yes, how do they celebrate? Are they super pro Christmas, or a grinch? 

Cali always loved Christmas, both her and dad were super into Christmas and decorated as soon as the calendar turned to December. Since he died, she has struggled to find her Christmas spirit, but still tries to rally for the family and their traditions.

What do they eat on Christmas?

For Colombians, Christmas Eve is a big day so Cali has her Colombian Christmas then and her American Christmas on Christmas Day. On Christmas Eve, her family and the Santos family next door come together for dinner where they eat traditional foods from Colombia. This includes, lechona (suckling pig), arepas (meat cornmeal cakes) and tamal. They also have their annual Natilla competition, this was between Marco’s Abuela and Cali’s father, but she is taking over the gauntlet this year. The winner gets bragging rights for the whole year and it is taken very seriously. Cali's own Christmas tradition is forcing @mcrcosantos to make her a tres leches cake which she doesn't like to share.

For Christmas Day, Cali spends it with her Mimi (her stepmother) and her sisters, they eat do a more traditional dinner of roasted meat and vegetables.

What are their favourite traditions?

Cali has always loved the neighbours get together on Christmas Eve. The families are incredibly close and always felt like extended family. She also loves decorating the family tree which is now at her stepmother’s house. They add a new ornament each year to represent their year, so their tree is incredibly busy.

What do they love most about Christmas? 

The food and the family time. Probably in that order. Christmas is always the time of year all the sisters are at home without fail and she gets to see her extended family too.

What’s the best Christmas present they’ve ever gotten? 

It’s a tie between the locket with a picture of her and her mother in or the framed family picture, the last taken before her dad died. 

What was their favourite Christmas?

The one after she’d moved to college. It was the first Christmas Cali could properly participate in as she was a bit older. It also felt like the first time the whole family had been together since she moved and it felt very special. 

Have their Christmas traditions changed since they were a child?

Not much. Things paused slightly when her dad died but now it’s almost done in his memory. The main difference now is that Cali no longer goes to mass, but instead says a Christmas prayer at home. Her and her family also go to her father's grave each Christmas Eve, light a candle and say a prayer for him. They then spend some time with him before going back to the festivities, where they light a candle by a photograph of him and leave a chair free for him and the others they've lost at their festivities. They have recently begun to add photos to the chair to include their lost loved ones.

What’s the Christmas wish this year? 

That everything works out with Marco.

What’s their Christmas like? Do they dress fancy or in pyjamas? Presents before or after breakfast, presents on Christmas Eve? 

Cali is always in Christmas PJs in the morning, she gets a new pair every year. For their Christmas Eve celebrations, she would usually wear a nice dress and would also wear nice clothes for Christmas Day. Presents are mainly Christmas Eve, but the family save a couple for Christmas Day, just as a cute thing. These are usually small stocking fillers and not main presents.

What's their typical Christmas day?

It starts on Christmas Eve with family cooking during the day and present swapping. They then get ready and the celebrations alternate between the Santos house and Cali’s house. They have dinner, they dance, they open gifts. Christmas Day is just a lazy morning and then prepping Christmas dinner. The afternoon is usually for the food coma nap. 

Anything else?

Being Colombian, Cali also celebrates Día de las Velitas on 7th December and Las Novenas, which are the nine days leading up to Christmas Eve. She will also add lights to the front of her house for the 7th December to celebrate the beginning of Christmas. Apart from celebrating Colombian Independence Day, it's the most connected Cali feels to her culture in the year. She is immensely proud to be Colombian and loves celebrating in the way of her culture, whilst honouring the traditions of her home country.

[joefool]

Review: The Complete Peanuts, Vol. 3 (1955-1956)

The late 50s are an interesting period, as you can feel Peanuts beginning to mature and deepen. Perhaps most of all, I feel like Charlie Brown has gone full sad-sack as of this volume. His gremlin vibes are gone, now he lays awake at night upset about his lack of Christmas cards. It’s a necessary change for so much humor and pathos, but I do mourn the loss of naughty Chuck.

No notable new additions to the cast this time around, but I do continue to enjoy Pig Pen. Snoopy is obviously not a new character, but it does feel like he made big strides here towards the animated dog we know. He has started impersonating animals, doing elaborate bits, even jumping and dancing on a regular basis. His anthropomorphic behavior isn’t just an occasional punchline, it’s now a through line of his character. We haven’t gotten Woodstock yet, and he still has a narrow head, but I can sense it coming. But until we get modern Snoopy, or Marcie, this strip still belongs to Miss Fussbudget, Lucy Van Pelt.

A fun thing about this transitional period is seeing so much Pig Pen but then seeing an occasional Shermy. More notably, Patty and Violet are regular members of the cast still! I kind of assumed they’d be gone by now. They’re mostly stock women, but they do have their moments and are at least more memorable than Shermy, who has no real reason to exist once Schroeder and Linus are around. On that subject, Linus is a real sweetie. He’s still in his infancy with blanket jokes and baby jokes, but you can feel the earnestness starting to poke through.

Another volume, another great set of strips. The race to 1960 continues.

[hogwash-deli]

Hogfather - Discworld & Terry Pratchett Wiki

Hogfather

The Hogfather is originally a winter god. In the deep winters, people of old feared that spring might never again come, so they gave bloody sacrifice of hogs to the Hogfather. Nowadays, the Hogfather is expected to travel in a sleigh pulled by hogs and every Hogswatchnight to bring gifts to all the children, or at least, those who believe in him; this yields a worshipper range of most of the Discworld except for the Counterweight continent and the continent of Klatch. Despite this impressive range, crass commercialization of the holiday compromised the belief in Hogfather, and then interference from the Auditors of Reality severely threatened his existence (chronicled in Hogfather).

His residence is the Castle of Bones near the hub. The Hogfather is an ancient being, who has seemingly kept his present form for some time; in Hogfather, Albert reminisces about his childhood memories of the Hogfather, more than 2000 years ago. The only difference in the Hogfather in that time seems to have been that he did not bring presents, but sausages and black puddings if you were lucky. But you always got a pink sugar piglet in the toe [of your stocking].

He parodies the Roundworld Father Christmas (the UK version of Santa Claus)

In the land of pine trees and deep snow and long winters, when the sun is below the horizon most of the day, in the piercing cold it can become a real question whether or not the sun will rise again in the morning. The voice of reason says it will rise, but there are many unreasonable voices in a person. In response to this question, the anthropomorphic wossname called the Hogfather arose. He had many forms throughout the centuries, and the man in the red suit was only the last of them. Susan saw them one after another. His first form was properly speaking porcomorphic, or pig-shaped. It was to this point that he retreated when ambushed by Mr Teatime. Despite his apparent task of distributing presents in the season of goodwill, sustained by the belief of children, on the longest night of the year it is still the role of the Hogfather to ensure that the Sun rises in the morning (comparable to Teppic’s dynasty). It is no small thing to make the Sun rise. When he was able to resume his role, the Hogfather seemed to salute Death as an equal. He did not thank him. “Ho Ho Ho,” notwithstanding, he was not a personification of many words.

When the Hogfather was attacked, Death, like an expert mechanic hearing a change in the sound of an engine, had heard a harmonic change in the music of the universe. He was able to enter the congruent reality of the Hogfather in a way in which he could not enter the domain of the Tooth Fairy. Death applied first aid to sustain belief in the Hogfather among children, and recruited Susan, even Hex.

When Mr Teatime had failed, the Auditors attacked the Hogfather directly, in the form of hounds. It was necessary for Susan, as a human being, to be the one to act to save him. To do this she had to leave behind her inner babysitter, and be with her belief. It was not simple. At a point where the hog she was riding teetered on an icy ridge, precipitous drops on both sides, she repeated to herself, “He’ll catch me if I fall,” but an older voice within her said, “No, he won’t. If I fall now, I don’t deserve to be caught.” As in the case of Death and Miss Flitworth, an anthropomorphic personification was saved by the self-gift of a human being.

Later Susan said to Death, “The sun would have risen just the same, yes?” “The sun would not have risen,” he said. “A mere ball of flaming gas would have illuminated the world.” It would have been a world of oblivion.

The same human capacity to believe which supports the Tooth Fairy and the Hogfather creates the space for meanings such as justice, mercy and duty, which have no existence in the physical universe, to become. What Hogswatch seems to stand for is not that you will get presents if you have been nice, but that what you have done counts for something, and it is known. It matters. “All things strive...” says Hex. Strange though it may seem, given the general immersion of human and human-like beings in the mere business of staying alive, it is towards this point that all things strive. This very line also appears in Dwarf Lore.

Annotation

Some aspects of the Hogfather suggest the anti-Santa Claus who lives on in some German folklore. Yes, Santa delivers presents to the good little boys and girls; but the bad ones had better beware the entity known as Schmutzli or Krampus, who at this season has free rein to punish the naughty with pinches, prods, hair-pulling, or a damn good thrashing with chains. Or even a "gift" of bloody bones in a bag..

[digitalcirce]

Gift From the Hogfather Originally posted on DeviantArt on December 24 2024 (woman to pig transformation)

“I’ve been a naughty piglet. The Hogfather has had ever such a hard time finding a place for me. He thinks you might uniquely find my… bad behavior charming, though. And his calculations of naughty and nice are almost as accurate as Santa’s! So, what do you say? Do you have room for an adventurous little piggirl in your heart and home?

Stock image used available from Adobe Stock at https://stock.adobe.com/images/brunette-woman-fashion-model-with-christmas-gift-box-at-home/128768771