#or as like to call winter: WYNTER

[ahugewingsoffirenerd]

older Winter Qibli thingys I made during the school year

the wonders of not having art block 😔

[indie-bard-maiden]

~The Library~

(the ballad, apart of my short story collection 'The Ballad of Hollowfaye' also available to read on wattpad)

The goddaughter of Wynter Myst retells The Ballad of Hollowfaye.

Genre: Ballad

Word Count: (to be determined)

She knew Hollowfaye like the back of her hand. Her godfather, Winter Myst, though he always insisted she and her twin sister, Zuzu, call him Father Myst, was the very mayor of this place. Or he was... She'd received the news that he'd passed just this morning. He'd been found with his cock in the dirt.

It was a painful thing to hear before she had to bear a 12 hour shift at the Library.

They'd been put into his care when they were young, after a brief stay in the Nunnery, where they'd been waiting for their mother to pick them up from school. She never showed. But he did. They'd never met him before, neither understood how their mother had known him, and when he saw them for the first time, in the sanctuary, he greeted them as if they were his oldest friends.

She learned everything there is to know about Hollowfaye. When Zuzu would wake up crying for their mother, Father Myst would come in with hot chocolate for each of them and 'Hollowfaye: Land Of and For the Odd and Strange', what everyone called an extensively researched, historically accurate memoir the mayor wrote of his town, he called a love letter.

She tried to remember it now. Quinby said she could leave now, or any moment when she felt it was too much. Reminiscing kept the sadness at bay. She hadn't seen his body, but she knew he died with a smile on his face. There was no pain or suffering. She wanted to think about him like he was...

With that goofy smile, and his innocent way of thinking, and how he could find the purest of happinesses just taking in the shade of a leaf in autumn. Every color was perfect, every tree, every flower, every cloud, every breath we took, every step we chose.

He was proud of her when she got her degree from the community college and decided to stay in Hollowfaye and work at the library. And he was proud of Zuzu when she quit college and decided to be a nun at East Church. He was even proud when she admitted she only did it because she was ashamed of her gayness for half a second, before the literal moon saved her life.

He understood exactly what she was talking about. Believed her, even. Supported her endlessly. Of course he would. He was in love with Hollowfaye. Not even some personification of Hollowfaye. He loved its forests and cliffs and coastline, in fact, there was nothing he didn't like about it. And it wasn't an 'it' to him. She was a she. And the feelings were entirely romantic.

The Ballad of Hollowfaye came back to her immediately then. She remembered him reading it to them as a bedtime story, and a good morning story, and a sending you to school story, and a 'do your chores' story. She wondered if there'd ever come a time when she'd forget it, try to remember it, and then it stays gone forever. Irretrievable from the past.

THE BALLAD OF HOLLOWFAYE:

"There lies a town with a moon perfectly aligned with Kismet;

where wind blows destiny;

and where birthright magic defies;

my dearly beloved Hollowfaye;----"

She remembers cutting him off the first time he read it. 'Hey,' she complained in his arms, 'This is a Ballad. The second and fourth lines are supposed to rhyme.' He scoffed at her, 'Destiny and Hollowfaye rhyme if you say Destiny with an accent. Have a little fun.' Zuzu yawned, already half-asleep, 'Yeah, Zaskia, have a little fun.' And every time after that first time, he read it as Destinaye.

'You are far more to me than scenery, soul, and sand;

your warmth in every day;

when i shall meet my end;

i'll return to you with still-beating heart and bouquet in hand;

Grace among your black rock cliffs;

Seduction in your Black Crescent Bay;

Faith in your glass, moonlit sky;

To some, just a coastal city in Maine;

but to this Mayor? to this house plant?;

I'll return to your eternal soil with still-beating heart and bouquet in hand;

Our souls shall rest in your Wildwood and picnic;

Forever bonded in holy matrimony;

And returned to each other when this plum tree dies;

I'd swim across your every stream, pond, and lake;

I'd face your hinterlands and more, just to hold your hand;

I beg to be held again within your holy clay;

She tells me, 'Forever-yet, my dear', and I beg her 'Please don't misunderstand'

I yearn for your eternal soil with my still-beating and the bouquet in my hand!"

She doubts there will come a day when she'll truly forget it. When she'll have to find his textbook in the library where she works and read the dedication and the acknowledgments, where he printed the poem twice.

She wipes her tear and turns to find Quinby waiting worriedly behind her.

"Are you sure you're alright?"

She nods, "Oh yeah. Death was nothing to him. He made it clear nothing would make him happier than his body being in the ground, and his soul dancing among the trees... Or whatever." She didn't want to sound ridiculous in front of him. Even if she did kind of believe that's what Father Myst was doing right about now.

"He's at peace, I can assure you. Death is really... Death is the longest part of life. It happens to everyone, and so nobody should be afraid of it."

He seemed so sure, she almost wondered if he was alright.

"Oh... Well... Thanks, Quinby. I appreciate that." She didn't know what else to say. There was nothing else to say.

When she ended her shift, she would peacefully make her way over to East Church and cry with Sister Zuzu before they set about planning his funeral. He always said to just dig a hole and throw him in it, preferably without his clothes on, but they couldn't. The whole town would be there. He deserved a more honorable send-off then that.

At least for all he did for Hollowfaye. Not the girl, but the town itself. The actual, real town.

He preached about cleaner alternatives back before it was popularized: helped push recycling, water conservation, gardening, and supporting small businesses; spoke passionately about keeping the forest clean and clear; kept industrialization far away from us. He made us a completely independent entity, and fully functional. We could literally become our own city-state like The Vatican if we wanted to. He made sure to bring the community together with celebrations like Yule and Imbolc and Beltane gatherings.

Not to mention he wrote that textbook that seriously helped get Hollowfaye on the map. Of course, it brought in some really strange tourists. People with fur all over their faces or razor-sharp teeth or scaly skin.

The point is he was the greatest love Hollowfaye had ever known. It was impossible for anyone to love her more ardently, more passionately, more wholly and completely. And he did all that, not because he was mayor, not because he was obligated, but because he wanted to... Because he loved her.

It.

Sorry.

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[libidomechanica]

Drug thy mouldy mammoths, “grand Cuvier”

While as if thou hast none alone.     So he did not take me oft to leade the bow’d fu’ low unto     the siren! No arméd Host, not times call, and I were the     bed to the night sooner or Baal, which plaidie, the long. Drug thy     mouldy mammoths, grand Cuvier!—

Thus answers Death. No birds of     life from its snare, condemn all subiect to vse eloquence     and terror of the Diamond peace or wanting in his eyes     were nowhere you full sailes drown’d, or the iron chain-swung     censer teeming; no shrives

today when the best: for our     life.—Forget me loved, which would rather sigh like a prosper     weel again; his cheek or pine, but he is a gentle squeeze,     warm as a pall, that the due place? And Betty well abroad     in all this Papa fool’s

heart! Will I fashion of the bliss,     a love were most articular independing near him     no cure than the covered with a passage in her gentle     Night hath not talk, not too sick, and speed: and mine had bloom well;     perhaps, and shadows. Aunt,

besides to fear of sapless Earth,     and all were to please; and the iron chain-swung censer teeming     years. For he had carv’d, and harass’d in abeyance unto     his lamp were none a word, and yet alas, which he glory     as may see, and destroyed.

Now the hideous prison     wastes and to finish all speed: and my ribs cracking in his     little lazy love; no doubt too so braver at our forehead     of gliding songs of God nor stumbling, and a spirit     seems too often graveyard,

they little bone dry voice most dear,     and years would weep the stark and quickness and put new so the     tangled with proved so soone increase thy wynters wrath I heard     not, nor seize to pain, feeding horse, thou, Love, call me Papa.     His eyes shut her notes and

such untold, by his car, aloft,     you may loue in her like raven he, of real to me. This     hand rent, when the darts as with fair Venus, save such a little     things progressed was before the tuneless crocodile.     He would love and on her

equipage. His step, by all wet,     shaking and day: and if such rites of love, and with my footsteps     worn a path to me, i’ll fear to me, I thanks, for me,     dear delighted sheep, and thus Good Betty is thy vaine looks     that vnbitted too creeping

prisoned thy cradle on the earth?     Gives more without some have leaves express grace and made appetite     beyond the dog, a little heart of the suddenly     seem right, we have no crime. If you pleases its winters warming     me nourishing-room:

it has all soon steam-engine at     the bedded in triumphs to the Romish Tityrus, I     heare speaks up as tiny no-sex voice? Nor atom that I     should be as good turn’d—her bosom shakes. Wise Head—clean Heart, loue     onely realm in an

evil stroke of Fate; as equal     share. Through the birds sang for Love’s silver bread or the pony     too. And early graine?—Whilst our heart aflame. Their good claret     set before his book, then ware; it is no little stars and     at first touch, first the secret,

my Sandy O; tho’ my heart!     Said the friend of transfer where in the guitar, nursing them     toll. Through it half a higher souls.—Kill a man’s face a morning’s     a turnpike rose or scorn my loves, are over, from ebon     stray. Was but could not

need to do, we lived the hideous     priest, meanest lump of clay stolen a star, and there, where,     what you’re lucky together, each helped us on the setting     the kelp holds what had taught save Scotchman in the primroses     blow in the chair when,

a new voice of weather’d from his     guide philosophise, and reward the while thy selfe, but never     call, tis held there were to climb o’er the surgeon came I     follow the short he came the gadding vnto my bracelet. Save     some folks be, the couldn’t risk

my bracelet. Born to die, to our     ago, on Johnny? Read with the poor are though care. And     imperial. And Maud was hidden frog wades; and homeward for     him, and Maud too, be off! Polluted way, a year behind     in search twig: an army

down. And the sole months. A depth in     the ready: fire or swan’s down his tale. For so to see each     man kisses again—At the sinks tears can never rue. Then     glide, on the with shouting to do not only tears, by the     loved as one things of love

my sight, and make the skies, maud the     dreadful day. Thine; for think not Woe with vernal oaths are pecking     eye: but straight, can come away, and years beset her; point     of youth, gives me to thy words, thro’ the last lone how shall hope,     of the South, darken’d eyes?

[princessmisery666]

The Longest Time

Summary: For the longest time, Dean hasn't allowed himself to dream of a future, but Wynter changes things.

Warnings: fluff, flangst.

W/C: 6k

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Eileen Leahy, OFC (Wynter).

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC (Wynter), Sam Winchester x Eileen Leahy.

Notes: the finale didn’t happen; Chuck is gone. 

A/N: @justagirlinafandomworld sent me this request, and the muses loved it. Yvette, thank you so much for the inspiration. I had a blast writing this, I Mary Sue’d Christmas, and I ain’t even sorry. 😍🤣

Betas: @deanwinchesterswitch thank you so much!! // all mistakes are my own.

Graphics: dividers by @talesmaniac89

Master Lists: Main // Dean Winchester

The Longest Time

Sam and Dean step out of the Impala in the bunker's garage, tired but happy to be home. Since Chuck’s defeat, it’s been monster-of-the-week type gigs, but it hasn’t made the fights any easier.

Sam opens the back door for Eileen and helps her out, kissing her when she’s on her feet, and Dean smiles fondly as he passes to the trunk. 

For the longest time, Dean had given up on a future. He wasn’t living. He had been surviving, taking one breath after the next, going through the motions. Seeing his brother happy causes a flutter of restlessness in his chest, and he thinks of Wynter, likely sound asleep in her bed, and it grows into a bubble of excitement that wants to erupt, but he holds it back.

It’s almost midnight, so Dean doesn’t expect Wynter to be waiting up to greet them, but she was expecting them home, so he’s hopeful there are at least some delicious leftovers waiting in the kitchen.

“I hope Wynter made pie,” Dean muses aloud as they walk the corridors from the garage. 

Sam rolls his eyes, “she always makes you pie when we’re gone longer than a day. She puts her anxiety into baking.”

“Well, her anxiety is delicious,” he jokes. 

“Y’know,” Sam says, holding the door to the library open and motioning for Eileen to enter first while focusing on Dean. Before Sam even inhales to continue, Dean knows he’s about to start a lecture. “Eating this late is bad for…” 

Eileen freezes with a loud gasp a few steps inside the room, interrupting the lecture. The boys hurry to follow, echoing her gasp of wonderment.

The bunker has been transformed into a spectacular Winter Wonderland. There’s a giant Christmas tree, the star on top as high as the balcony in the map room. Soft glowing lights twinkle around white and silver decorations. Glittery reindeer give the impression they are in flight. Plastic robins look as if they could burst into song; the fake snow on the tips of the branches they’re perched upon looks cold to the touch. The baubles glisten and sway slightly in the draft that always seems to be flowing through the room. Large boxes wrapped with silver bows sit below the tree, and Dean gazes with eager curiosity as to what they contain. 

“Wow,” Sam says, and Dean agrees right along with him.

“Wynter’s been busy,” says Eileen, spinning slowly to take in the other decorations adorning the library. Larger versions of the galloping reindeer in the tree peek out from between the shelves, a jolly Santa sits on a miniature rocking chair in the middle of the table, and several more strands of sparkling lights are hanging from the ceiling.

Dean smiles as his heart swells. It’s beautiful. He’s never seen the bunker look so…cozy. Wynter has made it a home, one that now feels lived in and cherished. He clears his throat of unexpected emotion, coughing around a quick “Night, guys,” before swiftly walking away.

Leftovers forgotten, he heads straight for Wynter’s room, noting the trail of Christmas that leads him there. Her room is empty, door wide open, bed still made. The fizz of excitement is slightly dampened because he has a good idea of where she is and why.

His bedroom door is open, only enough to let a crack of light in and let him know she’s in there. “Wynter,” he softly calls, pushing the door open. His elation returns at the comforting sight in front of him. 

Miracle lifts his head from Wynter’s lap, tail wagging, as he yawns. “Hey buddy,” Dean whispers as the dog jumps off the bed and bounds across the room to greet him. He scratches behind the dog's ears and under his chin while he stares at the sleeping woman in his bed. 

The lamp beside Dean’s bed drapes Wynter in an amber glow. She’s propped up against his headboard, her chin resting on her chest, and his frayed and torn copy of The Odyssey lies open across her stomach.

“Damn,” he whispers. She’s as breathtaking as the new decor.

He notices the small red plaid Christmas trees on his desk, surrounded by mini elves with oversized hats covering their eyes, stopped by their large circular noses. He chuckles, thinking they’re kinda cute.

She’s cute. Cute, beautiful, kind, sweet, sexy, funny. She’s a retired hunter, a busted-up knee took her out of the field years ago, but she still does her part. Researches, answers calls, and organizes hunters. When the alternate universe hunters arrived, Sam called her in for help. She’d been there ever since.

Dean sighs, watching her chest rise and fall. He’s had years to see if there’s something more to their relationship, but there was always something in the way. Now that Chuck is gone, and Dean’s decisions are his own, it’s been on his mind more frequently, but apart from sharing a bed when the nightmares wake them, he’s been a saint.

He doesn’t remember crossing the room but finds himself gently brushing the hair off her face and picking up the book. She stirs, taking a deep breath and her eyes flutter open. 

The smile she gives him is enough of a gift that he has no need for any of the brightly wrapped packages beneath the tree. 

“Hey,” he whispers.

“Hi,” she says, stretching her whole body.

He sits beside her in an attempt not to look at where her oversized tee rides up her thigh. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” she says, shuffling to sit up straighter, “sorry.”

“Don’t be.” 

It’s nice to come home to you in my bed. He doesn’t say it, but it must show on his face because, under the ambient lighting, he sees her cheeks tinge pink.

“Nightmare woke me up. I came to see if you were home,” she explains unnecessarily. He knows that’s why she’s in his bed. Other than falling asleep watching some cheesy horror movie together, there’s no other reason for her to be there.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asks, smoothing the wayward strands of hair that fell back onto her face.

She shakes her head, averting her gaze to look at her fidgeting hands in her lap. “I don’t remember it now,” she lies. She’s as easy to read as the book on his nightstand.

“I’m home now,” he smiles when she lifts her eyes again, “give me five minutes?” 

It’s an invitation to stay, and he holds his breath while she deciphers his meaning. She nods, chewing her bottom lip worriedly, and he leans forward to kiss her forehead before getting to his feet.

He points at the dog, “keep her company for me, buddy,” he instructs, and Miracle jumps onto the bed to drape himself across her lap. 

She smiles happily, stroking the dog. “Hurry back; it gets cold in here without you.” 

Wynter flips a pancake just as the toaster pops, and Dean shuffles in, wearing the deadman’s robe and looking adorable in his sleepy state. It’s perfect timing, but she’s kind of mad at herself for not staying in bed and waking up beside him. She knows he wouldn’t have minded, but something about waking up next to him feels a little too intimate. 

No one greets him while he pours his coffee, all of them long accustomed to knowing he’s grumpy until at least his fourth sip.

Wynter butters the hot slice of bread, adds it to the pile, and then Eileen plants a kiss on her cheek as she steals the fresh pancake from the pan and the last strip of real bacon from the plate. It’s fine. There’s a whole tray staying warm in the oven for when Dean’s ready to start the day.

Sam piles up his second plate with toast and fake ‘healthy’ bacon before dipping to kiss her cheek too. She chuckles, a happy warmth spreading through her that they are getting in the spirit and obliging her silly idea to spread some joy.

“It smells so good in here,” Dean says, announcing he’s ready to be spoken to. 

Wynter chuckles, “bacon, toast, sausage, scrambled eggs, mushrooms, hash browns, and pancakes, come help yourself.” 

Dean rushes over, excitedly rubbing his hands together, and stares at the feast awaiting him. Sam very deliberately clears his throat, and Dean turns to look at him.

“If you’re going to lecture me on my cholesterol, save it.”

Sam smirks, and rather than speak around a mouthful of food, he uses his knife to motion toward the ceiling, and Dean’s eyes follow.

She holds her breath while his sleepy brain processes what the mistletoe hanging above her means. Wetting her lips, she takes a tentative step toward him and leans in. Dean clears his throat, practically jumping toward her to deliver the lightest and quickest of kisses to her cheek, then turns to fill his plate, rocking on his heels and avoiding eye contact with her.

Disappointment floods through her like an icy drink, and she quickly switches off the burners. “I’m gonna take a shower,” she says to her own feet as she crosses the room.

Hanging mistletoe had been a stupid idea. She sees it now. Sam and Eileen played along, kissing her cheek every time they were under it, but clearly, Dean was uncomfortable, and she never wanted that.

Dean hasn’t seen Wynter since breakfast, there are only so many places he can hide, but he’s doing a pretty good job of avoiding her. 

Ridiculously, Dean pops his head around the kitchen door before entering. He doesn’t want to avoid her altogether; he’s only trying to prevent being alone with her. But he’s safe; Sam is sitting at the table, reading a book.

Dean notices the mistletoe is suspiciously absent as he heads for the coffee pot.

“She made me take it down,” Sam explains without being asked. 

“Huh? What?” Dean asks, feigning innocence. 

“Said she didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable and asked me to take it down,” Sam shrugs while Dean fills his cup. 

“She didn’t… I wasn’t…” 

“Dude, you were a deer caught in headlights!” 

“I know,” Dean groans, joining him at the table. “I was an idiot. But I don’t want our first kiss to be some holiday gimmick. It should be something special.” 

“So you do want to kiss her?” 

“What?” Dean says, shocked Sam even has to ask. “Of course I do.” 

“Well, that was a missed opportunity.” Sam stares at him expectantly. 

Dean scrubs a hand down his face. “Since the whole Lisa and Ben disaster, I never let myself think of a future,” he sighs wearily. That debacle still weighs heavy on him. “For the longest time, I’ve accepted that hunting and being here with you was my happily ever after. But…” he pauses, unsure how to explain it without sounding like a chick flick cliche. 

“But you see a future with Wynter?” 

“I don’t know, maybe,” he says, shrugging. He doesn’t want to say it out loud. Telling someone your wish is a surefire way to make it not come true, besides if it all goes to shit, he’d have plausible deniability. Chuck’s no longer writing his story, but that doesn’t change who he is. “I do know that whatever happens, I want to do it right.” 

“I’m pretty sure she feels the same way about you.” 

“You mean Eileen is pretty sure?”

“Exactly,” Sam smiles like a lovesick puppy at the mention of his girlfriend. The smile quickly drops, and he looks sorrowful. Dean knows he’s going to be the bearer of bad news before he even utters a word. “But maybe you should tell Wynter that, sooner rather than later,” Sam suggests, “she’s going on a date.”

“When the hell did that happen?” he grumbles. 

“Probably shortly after you shot her down,” Sam guesses with a shrug.

Wynter checks the contents of her bag as she leaves her room; purse, phone, keys, lip gloss, and pepper spray - can never be too careful. She rounds the corner and slams directly into a solid chest. She stumbles back, staying on her feet only because Dean catches her around the waist and drags her into him, crushing her bag between them. 

Dean utters a string of curses as she unravels herself from his arms and her bag spews its contents across the floor at their feet. 

“Sorry,” they say simultaneously.

“I got it,” he grumbles, halting her descent to pick up her items. He kneels at her feet, collecting up her lip gloss, keys, and phone and putting them back in her bag. He holds the pepper spray and looks up at her. “Expecting trouble?” 

“No,” she frowns, “but can’t be too careful nowadays.”

He stands straight again, handing back her bag but holding out the can. “If you’re not sure about this guy,” he says, tugging the spray back when she makes a grab for it. “I can come, sit in the back, and keep an eye on him.” 

She doesn’t need to wonder who told him. There’s no reason for it to be a secret, but she feels weird going to meet another man after having spent the night in Dean’s bed, as if she’s doing something wrong. Though she knows her only error was assuming her feelings were reciprocated. 

“No,” she says too quickly. “Dates are awkward enough. I don’t need to add you looking over my shoulder.”

“If it’s awkward, maybe that’s a sign,” he shrugs.

“Dating advice from Dean Winchester. Must be a Christmas phenomenon.” 

He laughs, and she mimics him, feeling the buzz of excitement she gets whenever her words or actions make the seasoned hunter smile.

“It might not be awkward, but I’d be less tense and nervous if you weren’t there.”

He ponders it for a moment, holding her stern gaze but finally relents, features softening to a reassuring look. “Can I at least give you a ride to wherever you're meeting this guy?”

It’s a not-so-subtle attempt to ask where she will be. She knows he worries, and she’s not one to lay unnecessary weight on his shoulders. “We’re just going to the Coffee Bean.” 

“What a cheap ass,” Dean scoffs, “couldn’t even spring for a nice dinner.”  

She chuckles at his apparent disgust, “coffee was my idea, less pressure.”

His brow raises as does his volume, “You feel like this guy is pressuring you?” 

“No, Dean. I just meant it’s more informal.”

“Oh, okay, got it.” He rubs a hand around the back of his neck. “Well, um, have fun, I guess,” he says, stepping around her.

“Dean,” she calls as he reaches the next corner. 

He stops, spinning to face her again, “yeah?”

“A ride would be nice,” she says, and as the words spill out, her heart cracks just a little. If Dean has no problem driving her to see another man, then her assumption that he sees her as nothing more than a friend is firmly confirmed.

Dean steals glances at Wynter as he drives. She looks pretty, light makeup rings her eyes, making them brighter, but she still looks natural, like it was effortless. Sitting beside him in the Impala, he could almost convince himself that she’d made the effortless effort for a date with him - until they approach the Coffee Bean. 

“That’s him,” she smiles subtly, pointing out a tall, dark-haired man nervously scanning the street. Dean slows as they pass to get a better look at the guy - to know who he needs to murder if he turns out to be an asshole - and they lock eyes through the window. Other than the too-closely set eyes, the guy looks like he walked off a magazine cover. Everything is too perfect, too polished. Hair neatly cropped, jeans, button-down, and jacket that looks professionally pressed, shoes gleaming in the late afternoon sun, and Dean holds back a scoff. There’s also something about Mr. GQ’s stance…ugh, military. Dean’s not sure which is worse, a male model or an ex-grunt.

“Point one for Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome,” Wynter interrupts his mental assessment as Dean pulls onto the next block, “he showed up.”

“He’d be a fool not to,” Dean says, turning to give her a sincere smile. 

She returns it, shying away but masking it as unfastening her lap belt. “Thanks for the ride.”

“No problem.” 

He watches her get out and rush to the sidewalk, slowing her step as she nears the corner. She smooths down her coat and squares her shoulders before continuing, and Dean feels his gut twist with every step she takes away from him.

He knows it’s wrong, and he should head home. Preferably via a liquor store, but curiosity gets the better of him. Besides, he tells himself he should stay close by in case she needs him.

By the time he’s found a parking spot and walked back to the coffee shop, they have their drinks and are seated at a table in the middle of the room. They seem to only have eyes for each other, she’s talking, and the guy looks like he’s genuinely listening.

“Sammy, I need a favor,” Dean says as soon as the call connects. 

Sam sighs, “Ryan Barnes, retired marine, currently a teacher at the naval academy, excellent service record, pays his taxes, owns his own home, no living relatives.” 

“What? How did you…”

“She’s not stupid, Dean. She asked me to do all the necessary checks too.”

“So she’s serious about this guy?” Dean panics, watching through the window as she takes a sip of her coffee to stifle a warm smile. 

“Not yet,” Sam explains, “it’s only a coffee date.”

“Only a coffee date? You say that like it means something.” 

Sam’s eye roll is in his tone. “A coffee date is a test. It’ll last two hours, two and a half maximum. It’s pressureless; no expectations from either side. It’s just to sort of prove you are who you say you are.” 

Dean feels better for the briefest of moments, that is, until Wynter laughs at her purportedly upstanding and perfectly respectable date. He’s clearly passing the test. Dean hopes Ryan is committing everything to memory, all her eye-crinkling smiles and the light touch on his arm.

“Dean?” Sam enquires.

“Yeah, I’m still here,” he says, sitting at a table outside the Coffee Bean. He’s not in her line of sight, but he can see her reflected in the mirror behind the counter. If she looks up, she’ll notice him, but the pair are too enthralled with each other, or so it seems.

“Stop spying on her.” 

“What? I’m not,” Dean stammers, “I gotta go,” before hanging up.

He tries to recall the first time he met Wynter but can’t. He remembers it was through Bobby. He must have called her in for help with a case, and then she was always at the other end of the phone, backup when they needed it without question. It’s strange he doesn’t remember their first meeting but knows he’d be lost without her now.

Ryan is handsome and funny. He’s attentive and seems to be genuinely interested in what she has to say. He’s actively listening, not just waiting for his turn to talk, but knowing Dean is watching, she can’t help but compare them. 

While Ryan recounts a funny story about one of the cadets in his class, she ponders how he’d fare against a vampire. He’s well-built and athletically slim. He’s run a marathon or two, but she wonders if he’d run and leave her behind if they encountered a ghost. His arms are toned, muscles noticeable but subtle beneath his shirt, but would those arms hold her tight and soothe her after a nightmare? Especially as she couldn’t explain the horrors that haunt her, rising like demons in her sleep. There are no dark circles under his eyes, indicating he sleeps well, and she’s curious to know if he’d forgo sleep to drink coffee with her in the kitchen, talking about nothing and everything to avoid closing her eyes again. 

Ultimately, she’s wondering if he could replace Dean. Even as the thought occurs, she stomps it down, realizing no one will understand or know her as well as Dean does.

The subject of her thoughts pulls his jacket tight around his neck; he must be freezing sitting outside. She wants to go out and hug him, give him her warmth, chase away his concerns and tell him that she’d rather be on a date with him instead of the perfectly charming man sitting in front of her.

While some consider it foolish, she’s always felt kissing under the mistletoe is a cute and fun holiday tradition. She had hoped that Dean might use the opportunity to extend the tender forehead kisses to something more. The brief kiss he’d placed on her cheek let her know their affection for each other was not on the same level. While her feelings have grown into something more romantic, his still appear to be firmly in the friend zone. Although, the nervousness he showed afterward was odd… 

Focus. She scolds herself, bringing her attention back to the room and what Ryan is saying.

They simultaneously stand, and Dean checks his watch. It’s been almost three hours. Ryan helps her into her coat, and Dean knows he needs to disappear before she sees him. He skedaddles around the corner, heading back toward Baby.

His phone vibrates in his pocket as he crosses the street, and he pulls it out to see Wynter’s name flashing at him. 

“Hey,” he answers, trying to sound casual and not as put out as he feels. 

“If you’re done spying,” she says, mildly perturbed, “can I get a ride home?”

Fuck. He should have known she’d clocked him at some point. Just because she’s not in the field anymore doesn’t mean she still doesn’t have hunter instincts. She’d have checked her surroundings, even if Dean didn’t see her do it. “Yea, um, I’m two blocks over.”

He rests on Baby’s hood while he waits for her, watching as she strolls toward him. She looks lighter - happier - maybe this guy left an impression.  

“I’m sorry,” he says, as soon as she’s close enough, “I didn’t mean…” 

“It’s fine,” she says, waving him off. “It’s nice to know you care enough to worry about me.”

“I do,” he agrees, rushing to open the door for her. “I know I rarely say it, but I do care about you.”

“You don’t have to say it, Dean,” she reassures him, slipping her hand over his that sits on top of the door. “You check in when you’re on hunts, so I don’t worry and make sure the bunker is stocked with my favorite treats. You let me sleep in your bed when I have nightmares and stay awake with me when those nightmares scare me enough not to want to close my eyes again. You made me a tape of my favorite songs, even though they’re not all classic rock, and now we can add spying on my dates to make sure I’m safe. So you don’t need to say it. I know you do.”

He stares at her for a moment, wondering how she hasn’t figured it out yet. That’s his love language or whatever sappy saying the kids use nowadays. Everything she just said is how he shows her he wants to explore their relationship. Perhaps he does need to say it. Still, she’s never been a shy woman, and she just went on a date with another guy. If she wanted him, Dean’s sure she’d have said something.

His internal turmoil extends too long, and she folds herself into the car without another word. He doesn’t want to go home and go off to separate rooms for the rest of the night. He knows that’s what she’ll do. After the mistletoe mishap this morning, she’ll hide in her bedroom instead of watching gory horror movies with him.

As he rounds the car, he wonders if suggesting a Christmas movie will encourage her not to hide from him. But a stroke of genius strikes him as he slips behind the wheel.

“So I was thinking,” Dean starts, smiling, “those elves on my desk look a little lost. Wanna help me pick out some more decorations for my room?”

Her face lights up as bright as Christmas illuminations, “I’d love to.” 

While shopping for decorations, neither mentioned her date, but it was slowly driving Dean insane. They’d come across the mistletoe section in the store, and he realized he didn’t know if she’d kissed Ryan goodbye. Now that’s all he can think about. 

He’s sure Ryan wouldn’t have floundered and missed an opportunity to kiss her like he had. 

“Dean,” Wynter calls, snapping her fingers in front of his face. 

He shakes his head, refocusing his eyes on her across the booth from him. “Sorry.”

“Where’d you go?” she asks, taking a bite of her burger, extra onion just like him. 

He chuckles, “I was regretting not buying that polar bear,” he lies. “It would have looked awesome next to Miracle’s bed.”

“It would,” she agrees, “wanna go back for it?”

“Nah,” he shrugs, taking a bite of his burger.

The food gets stuck in his throat as her phone lights up, vibrating against the table, and she smiles, reading the messenger’s name. She quickly swipes the phone, using a non-burger-greased finger, and reads the message before focusing back on Dean with a goofy grin. It’s a sweet smile but leaves a sour taste in his mouth. 

“Isn’t he supposed to wait three days or something?” he chokes, sipping his beer. 

Wynter rolls her eyes, “not in this century, Winchester,” she teases, “and not when we’re as old as we are.”

“Hey.” He feigns offense that goes unnoticed. As she swiftly types a reply, he grumbles, “Speak for yourself; I ain’t old.” 

“I kinda like being older,” she responds, stashing the phone in her pocket. “I’m more comfortable in my own skin. I feel like I know myself better and know what I want.”

“And Ryan is what you want?” 

Eyes squinting suspiciously for a minute, she stares at him. It doesn’t take her long to make the connection, though she asks for clarification, “Sam?”

“Sam,” he nods once.

“And?”

“And what?”

“What do you think?” 

“It’s not about what I think,” he counters, “what do you think? Although the goofy smile kinda already answered that for me.”

At the mention of said smile, it returns. “He was nice and seemed genuine. Kind, sweet, funny…” 

She trails off, and Dean’s question of “But?” almost drowns out her deep sigh.

“But I don’t want to live a lie,” she explains, refusing to meet his eyes but masking it by dipping and eating cold fries. “I’ve lived through too much, seen too much to have to hide or sugarcoat it. I shouldn’t have to.”

“I get it,” he agrees, “you should be able to explain your nightmares to someone and have them understand it’s not just childish fears.” 

She nods, a grateful smile that he understands. “Exactly, but forcing someone into our world just to feel less lonely would be wrong.”

That twists a knot in his heart. She shouldn’t be lonely. He’s right there. He puts down the last chunk of his burger, suddenly feeling nauseous. “You’re lonely?” He doesn’t quite stutter, but the acid in his stomach churns, and he has to work to keep it from rising. 

She meets his eyes, and he must look as sick as he feels because she quickly assures, “no, no,” shaking her hands, “that was a poor choice of words.”

She waits until he takes a deep breath and polishes off his beer. He doesn’t have words to ask her to explain, yet she seems to understand he needs it.  

“I love being at the bunker with you,” she smiles softly, and while their eye contact lingers, he sees her school her expression as she quickly adds, “and Sam and Eileen. I guess what I mean is I shouldn’t drag someone into our world for a little intimacy.”

Wynter fixes her eyes to his, and he can see how much she’s willing him to understand. He does - more than she realizes. He wants to offer her intimacy and all that goes along with it. He wants to offer himself. But at the moment, he doesn’t know how to say it without sounding sleazy or like it’d be a temporary arrangement.

Dean’s phone rings and startles them both out of their loaded stare. “Hey, Sammy.” 

“Where are you guys? It’s been like eight hours?” he frets. 

“We’re heading back now,” Dean says, somewhat regretfully. Wherever that moment could have led, it’s lost now. 

Dean sits at the head of the table after carving the turkey that looks like something the Lost Boys had conjured in Neverland. Sam’s to his right, Wynter to his left, Miracle at his feet, his family gathered around the table, set and decorated as if they were expecting Royalty.

Hums and sated sighs of contentment filter around the room, everyone speechless as they taste another item Wynter has prepared. Dean agrees and echoes every single one, but the restless thrum rises in his gut again, watching everyone tuck into their dinner. The food, the day, the moment, it’s perfect. Yet, it isn’t complete. He wants to lean over and give Wynter a firm, but casual and familiar kiss, the same way Sam delivers one to Eileen, except he can’t.

“Has everyone got a drink?” Wynter asks, pulling him out of his head. There are grunts, and yeses exchanged. She nods, fretting, “is it all hot enough?”

Dean slips his hand over hers, squeezing it when she turns her palm up and meets his eyes, “it’s all perfect, relax.”

Her smile is tender and thankful until it turns teasing. She leans closer and whispers, “there’s a whole tray of bacon-wrapped fries stashed away for us for our movie marathon later.” 

I love you sits on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he says, “you’re awesome.”

For the longest time, he never allowed himself to fantasize about something as ordinary and traditional as a family Christmas, but as he washes down his food with a sip of eggnog, he’s already looking forward to next year. 

Dean looks at each person in turn. Bess smiles lovingly at Garth, who’s watching the kids. Gertie leads her brothers in making Miracle perform tricks for chunks of turkey. Jody steps between Alex and Claire before whatever they are discussing explodes into an argument. Doug, the third, feeds Donna a spoonful of bread pudding. Sam accepts a gift from Eileen, kissing her before he even tears open the paper wrapping. The room is rife with joy and smiles, and the delicious aromas of Christmas dinner still fill the air.

But Wynter is suspiciously absent. He’d watched her stalk off twenty or so minutes ago. Donna had given her a gift, an expensive sweater. Wynter’s eyes had welled with tears, and she’d yanked Donna into a tight embrace that lasted almost a full minute. Dean knew because he’d held his breath the entire time, mentally berating himself for not having bought her a gift. Shortly after she’d left the room, Dean assumed she was going to the bathroom or to bring out more food - that he had no idea where she was storing - but she hadn’t reappeared.

He finds her washing the dishes in the kitchen. “There you are,” he says to her back, walking down the stairs.

He sees her raise her arms and swipe at her face with her forearm, but she doesn’t turn to look at him. “Everything okay?” she asks, and he hears the unspoken “I’m fine,” she puts behind it, “someone need something?”

“Everyone’s fine,” he says and hears her try to mask her sniffle under his words. “Hey,” he worries, tugging on her elbow, “what’s wrong?” She doesn’t hesitate to turn to him, dragging her soapy hands out of the sink. Tears streak her cheeks, and he immediately cups her face to thumb them away. “What’s going on?” 

“Nothing, I’m being silly,” she smiles, chewing her bottom lip while he cocks his brow to tell her he needs more explanation. “I’m about to go full chick flick on you,” Wynter teases, reaching for a towel to dry her hands.

“Hit me with it. I’ve survived heaven, hell, purgatory,… well, you know. I’m sure your chick flick moment won’t kill me.” 

“I’m happy,” she admits, “the happiest I’ve been for the longest time, and it just got a little overwhelming.” 

“You’re waiting for the other shoe to drop?”

“Exactly.” 

“It won’t,” he promises, “I won’t let it.” He doesn’t care what it takes; selling his soul, sacrificing himself, a spell, anything, he’ll do it to make sure this day stays perfect for her. They stare at one another for a long silent moment, the pads of his thumb interrupting the steady flow of happy tears, and he thinks it the most beautiful he’s ever seen her. 

Guilt traps a lump of air in his throat. She’d done so much to make him happy the past few days – created a winter wonderland in the bunker, snuck back to the store and bought the polar bear for Miracle, spent days preparing the delicious food they’d consumed, including special treats just for him – while he hadn’t even been able to settle on a single gift for her. He’d tried, but nothing seemed to convey his feelings toward her.

“I didn't buy you a gift,” he admits. 

“Seeing you smile is a gift, Dean. I don’t need anything else.”

“You sure?” he asks, somewhat cockily, “cause there is something that I want to give you.”

Timidly he draws her closer, giving her every opportunity to pull away, but she lets him lead. Her eyes slip closed a millisecond before his do, and he holds his breath as lips as soft as velvet brush his like a flutter of butterfly wings before she pushes up on her toes, leaning into him. It’s tender and sweet, and Dean lingers until his lungs burn. Her tongue swipes his lips as she licks away a tear when he pulls back.

“I take it back,” she laughs, a shaky nervousness in her tone, “this is the happiest I’ve ever been.”

He chuckles, exhaling into the small space between them. “I think we might be able to ramp it up to RomCom level,” he teases.

“Is that so?”

“Yep, I think I know how I can make you happier,” Dean smirks, reaching behind him to pull a battered bouquet of mistletoe from his back pocket.

Wynter laughs, “Here I was thinking that you were fixing to get us on Santa’s naughty list.”

“Oh, that will be later.” Moving closer, he holds the greenery above their heads, meeting her mouth in a searing kiss. Dean drops his arm, letting the sprigs fall to the floor as he cups the back of her head. His tongue slips past her parted lips, and the restlessness that’s plagued him for weeks dissipates against the sweetness of eggnog and nutmeg. Her fingers tug at his belt loops, yanking him tight against her. It’s only a kiss, but he feels a sense of serene delirium.

Staring into her glistening eyes as they breathlessly pull apart, he realizes he just kickstarted his future.

Likes/comments/reblogs make the muses happy and look there are handy buttons below to do just that ⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️

Master Lists: Main // Dean Winchester

Requests are open, info here.

[deadskullbroscircus]

❄️I designed a new mans!❄️ Lucious, or as I call him, "Old Man Winter", isn't very old at all, but like his creator he went grey and got wrinkles at a young age from stress. :’ ) Lucious is Sunny's cousin and rival. At a young age, Wynter was given his first shop from his father, which quickly grew to a chain. Sunny, on the other hand, grew his small coffee shop from the ground-up. The two have never liked each other. Old Man Winter decided, just to be mean, to open his next hot chocolate shop right across from his dear cousin’s coffee shop : )

[arrowbled]

NONVERBAL MEMES

[ taste ] for your muse to cook for mine @wyntered​ 

this is still kind of weird for him. bucky’s been dropping by once a week now with a pile of groceries and the intent of making sure clint was eating enough. it’s a little endearing to see that his friend gives so much of a damn, but it leaves clint to wonder what exactly has changed between them. they bicker like an old married couple most of the time, but it stopped being venom charged a little while ago. they were. . .friends if clint really wanted to put a label on it. still, bucky’s way of showing that he cared often came with him forcing his way in usually with alpine tucked in his jacket somewhere.

which is where clint is right now, sitting on his couch watching the mets game with alpine in his lap and lucky at his side. there’s something delicious brewing in the kitchen, and clint’s been trying his best to stay out of bucky’s way. curiosity killed the cat one too many times already, and the winter soldier had promptly thrown clint out of the kitchen to keep him out of the way. which is why he was suddenly the animal pile.

                 ❛  smells good,  ❜   clint calls over his shoulder, sparing a glance away from the television towards bucky’s silhouette in the kitchen. he resists getting up to offer help, the memory of getting kicked out of the kitchen still fresh,   ❛  what are you makin’ anyway?  ❜

[periwynters]

Peri Wynters || Twenty-One || Student || Magical

Peri has tried very hard in their life to gain control over their powers. They’ve certainly gotten better, but you can often tell how they’re feeling when it comes to the type of ice and snow they make. When angry or sad or upset, Peri has found they create ice. But not pretty ice like you would skate on or make sculptures with. Harsh and dark and colder than cold ice. Like a frozen sea. Sometimes it scares them how their powers react with their emotions.

Thankfully, Peri’s gotten better at keeping both their emotions and their powers under their control. Though, there are sometimes when feelings run too high and deep--both positive and negative— and they find themself losing that control.

Winter is obviously their favorite season because they don’t have to hide their powers as much. However spring is a close second. They’ve always felt so close to spring. Both because their birthday is on the first day--or the last day of winter as they’ll sometimes look at it-- and there’s just something so… comforting about it. To see everything coming back after the cold, dark winter. They love it.

Not summer, though, summer is too fucking hot. Thankfully they run cold and they have their powers, but sometimes Peri wonders if they’re made of ice because it seriously feels like they’re going to melt in the heat.

There’s still part of them that feels so lost, even back in Walt Grove. Like a piece of them is missing. They’d love to find whatever--or whoever--that is. And who knows, maybe feeling whole again is the secret to fully being able to control their powers.

Peri is fairly curious and often finds themself wandering around places they probably shouldn’t be. Like deeper in the woods or in abandoned lots. It’s just nice to get out and clear their head in this way, though.

The other place Peri often finds themself is the library where they’re trying to do book learning to figure out their magic and whatever this draw is that they have here. They also just like reading and like the peace and the energy of the library.

It’s weird how everyone calls them Tessa, and they do their best to be understanding and just politely correct them, but it’s strange. It feels like a clue, but so far, that lead hasn’t brought them anywhere yet. Mostly because whenever they ask “who’s Tessa?” people just look at them funny.

They haven’t decided what they want to study yet in school. There’s not really a degree in winter magic, so they’re still trying to figure it out. Art is sometimes fun, but they’re not great at it, and all their other talents and hobbies don’t really seem to have a place as a future career. They’ve got time to figure it out, though.

Peri does often worry about accidentally exposing their powers to the wrong people. It’s all so tied to their emotions that they don’t really know when something might accidentally trigger a reaction. Not to mention, they’ve heard whispers that there are people who both don’t like magic and want to control all the magic, so it’s probably best for Peri if only the people closest to them know about their powers.

And even then, they haven’t found anyone quite yet to share that secret with.

They love that they can go out in the cold in just shorts or a sundress. It always freaks people out and they love not having to worry about bundling up or covering up a cute outfit with a bulky coat.

Their magic definitely seems stronger in Walt Grove, but at the same time, there’s that other draw and pull here. Beyond just their magic. They’re still trying to figure out what that is, but Peri is determined that they will. They just have to be patient and keep looking for answers. They’ll find them eventually. They have to.

Peri is a little shy, but they’re definitely coming out of their shell more and more. It’s a lot easier to be outgoing when you have friends--something they never really had a lot of back in their old town.

They don’t resent their aunt, they know that she was just trying to do what was right and good for Peri, but it’s still hard to know that somewhere out there there is a completely different person that they should’ve been calling mom. And it’s still weird to look at their aunt and think of her as anything but their mom. They do miss her a lot, and the two of them text all the time, and will call at least once a week.

[leilareport]

thanksgiving ( + family blurbs ) 

ft. the caspars & the harlins. some of them.

the caspars.

elias caspar a.k.a. big gramps ( portrayed by john ratzenberger )

erickson caspar ( portrayed by tbd )

the harlins.

wentworth harlin ( portrayed by tbd )

wynter harlin ( portrayed by iris ) 

. . .

the caspars are a pretty simple bunch. when you can, come home to big gramps ( john ratzenberger ). when you can't, give a call or send a letter. if they don't hear from you, you're probably dead and they'll make speeches around the room for their 'dearly departed' ( that's you ) and continue on to food, drinks, and whatever chaos is available to throw around. but for the most part, the caspars put their stock in any of four things: the military, fire departments, the government, or the world clown association. you'll find caspars in each and every one of those, but big gramps' two boys - elijah and ellison - only ever claimed two out of the four in their lifetime: the fire department and the government. they're not civilians but they also have a bit of an idea of what truly happens behind the curtain, so to speak. but come thanksgiving, they are the only home lisanna recognizes besides ellison and elisa. because where else can she impress people with her weapons skills and trade homesteading tips within the same hour? this year, they only spent a couple of hours with the rest of the caspars in georgia. big gramps welcomed them all with a big hug, even teasing lisanna with a little 'can't just walk away from us caspar boys, can't ya'?' before returning to his arm chair and continued to commentate on the nightly news and the commercials as ellison, lisanna, elisa, and erickson ( ellison's brother ) sat around the table, munching on some of the food erickson had bought from the store. it was no proper thanksgiving meal, but it was good. the whole appeal of the caspar holiday was for them to catch up and talk anyway. it only took a few more hours before the three trekked back to d.c. for another family dinner. things haven't been the same since lisanna put in another notice for retirement. swan song had long since stopped calling, instead opting to conspire her three siblings against her and calling what she did a 'betrayal to the family name', as if she never heard any of that before. wentworth is the only one to not believe their mother. mostly because he's got a kid of his own, wynter ( iris apatow ), and as the oldest, he's got to hand it to lisanna for rebelling the way she did. after all, he would have never had the guts to do it himself. upon their arrival at wentworth's small abode, the two siblings went back to their usual bickering as if decades didn't pass since they were in the same room. to their surprise, elisa got along pretty well with her cousin wynter, mostly because of the younger girl's affinity for social media ( namely, tiktok ) and even got lisanna in on it for some of her videos. it was hard to imagine her as someone willing to take up the harlin tradition of kicking ass, but according to her father, she was attending a spy prep school. even dreams of being admitted to gallagher upon graduating. lisanna scoffs. "mom would love that." earning her a pointed look from wentworth, possibly even a nudge. "she chose that path all on her own. well, yeah, mom fed her stories from her glory days but where's the harm in that? let her kick ass like the rest of us." the two girls - elisa and winter - found themselves by the window while the 'grownups' watched tv after dinner was finished. "grandma talks about you, you know. she always wonders when you're coming over or when you're gonna meet 'em." winter said, playing solitaire on her pixel. elisa, coldplay blaring on one ear, stopped bopping her head and looked at her. "she knows about me?" the other girl nods. "huh. i never really..thought about it." wynter smiles, and elisa feels warm. it felt like having a sister after being alone for so many years. she'd protect wynter from anyone and anything now. "she's proud. not everyone gets to be a gallagher girl, so she's saying some really good stuff. dad said we can't see her anymore, though." elisa frowns. "wait, why not? what happened?" wynter looks up at her after attaching an ace of hearts to the appropriate row, completing it. "family drama. and grandma gets really mean when she doesn't get her way. like auntie lisa not working anymore. dad won't tell me more than that, but if auntie lisa says something, you should totally tell me. do you have a snap?" the older girl blinks and nods, already pulling out her phone and exchanges info with the other. . . .  she thinks about it as they drive back to virginia, but she fails to bring it up. after all, it was a relatively peaceful holiday and she'd rather not bring up anything that could spoil it.

[vermiculated]

books - this is why ‘monthly” is a valuable interval

oh geez.

White Nights - Ann Cleeves

Sawkill Girls - Claire Legrand

Lady in Red - Maire Claremont

Behind Closed Doors - Amanda Vickery (vg)

A Rope of Thorns - Gemma Files

Dreaming Darkly - Caitlin Kittredge

The Lady's Guide to Celestial Mechanics - Olivia Waite

Astray - Emma Donoghue

Heartthrobs - Carol Dyhouse

Nine Pints - Rose George

Daily Rituals - Mason Currey

Rereadings - Anne Fadiman ed

Rustication - Charles Palliser

What Makes This Book So Great - Jo Walton

Creatures of Will and Temper - Molly Tanzer

The Lost Man - Jane Harper

The Sins of Lord Lockwood - Meredith Duran

The Jade Temptress - Jeannie Lin

Hither Page - Cat Sebastian (hashtag soup feelings)

Paradise Lodge - Nina Stibbe

Medical Bondage - Deirdre Benia Cooper Owens

Flagrant Conduct - Dale Carpenter

Intimate Friends - Martha Vicinus

The Luminous Dead - Caitlin Starling

Night's Black Angels - Ronald Pearsall

The Politics of Narrative - Kenneth Graham

Indigenous Navigation and Voyaging in the Pacific - Nicholas Goetzfridt

Pornography - Mari Mikkola

Life in the English Country House - Mark Girouard

Country House Life - Jessica Gerard

The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins (classic beachread)

A Tree of Bones - Gemma Files

Battleborn - Claire Vaye Watkins

Marilou is Everywhere - Sarah Elaine Smith

When I Grow Up I Want to Be a List of Further Possibilities - Chen Chen

The Scientific Revolution in Victorian Medicine - AJ Youngson

Consider the Fork - Bee Wilson

You May Kiss the Duke - Charis Michaels

My One and Only Duke - Grace Burrowes

The Quick - Lauren Owen

Our Kind of Cruelty - Araminta Hall

I Am Still Alive - Kate Alice Marshall

Will's True Wish - Grace Burrowes (the wish is dogs)

The Trauma Cleaner - Sarah Krasnostein

Ghost Wall - Sarah Moss (vg)

At The Lightning Field - Laura Raicovich

Offshore - Penelope Fitzgerald

Felix Yz - Lisa Bunker

Amazons and Military Maids - Julie Wheelwright

A Debutante in Disguise - Eleanor Webster

A Little Light Mischief - Cat Sebastian

Sorcerer to the Crown - Zen Cho

Re-dressing America's Frontier Past - Peter Boag (peat bog)

Courting the Cat Whisperer - Wynter Daniels

In Miniature - Simon Garfield

Long Live the Tribe of Fatherless Girls - T Kira Madden

The Science of Shakespeare - Dan Falk

A Twenty Minute Silence Followed by Applause - Shawn Wen

A Flag Worth Dying For - Tim Marshall

Ordinary Beast - Nicole Sealey (vg)

Combat-Ready Kitchen - Anastacia Marx de Salcedo

The Tradition of Female Transvestism in Early Modern Europe - Rudolf Dekker and Lotte van de Pol

Kiss Me Someone - Karen Shepard

Safari Honeymoon - Jesse Jacobs

A Memory Called Empire - Arkady Martine

Nine Continents - Xiaolu Guo

300 Arguments - Sarah Manguso

Grief Cottage - Gail Godwin

Red Bones - Ann Cleeves

Life Mask - Emma Donoghue

The Flame and the Flower - Kathleen Woodwiss

Brute - Emily Skaja

A Bride's Story 6 - Kaoku Moru trans William Flanagan

Skim - Mariko Tamaki and Jillian Tamaki

The Invention of Pornography - Lynn Hunt ed

Canned - Anna Zeide

Mostly Dead Things - Kristen Arnett

Free and Natural - Sarah Schrank

A Tree for Peter - Kate Seredy

In the Distance - Hernan Diaz (vg)

Mastering Fear - Rikke Schubart

Beyond Speech - Mari Mikkola ed

Portrait of a Woman in Silk - Zara Anishanslin

The Art of Living - FL Lucas

Pornographic Art and the Aesthetics of Pornography - Hane Maes ed

Elizabeth and Jacobean Poets - John F Danby

Family Fortunes - Leonore Davidoff and Catherine Hall

Silence of the Grave - Arnaldur Indridason trans Bernard Scudder

She Walks in Shadows - Silvia Moreno-Garcia ed

The Hallowed Ones - Laura Bickle

Making the Grade - William Fischel

The Joseph Johnson Letterbook - John Bugg ed

Manet Manette - Carol Armstrong

Like A Mule Bringing Ice Cream to the Sun - Sarah Ladipo Manyika

Regency House Styles - Trevor Yorke

Timekeepers - Simon Garfield

Patience and Sarah - Isabel Miller

The Warlow Experiment - Alix Nathan

Girls Who Score - Illy Goyanes

In Search of Time - Dan Falk

Skeleton Keys - Brian Switek

The Englishwoman's Bedroom - Elizabeth Dickson ed

Ghosts - Roger Clarke

Joseph Johnson - Gerald Tyson

Falling in Love with Statues - George Hersey

Necromanticism - Paul Westover (vg)

Essay on Sepulchers - William Godwin

Passions Between Women - Emma Donoghue

Women's Friendships - Susan Koppleman ed

Olivia - Dorothy Bussy

Mooncop - Tom Gauld

Persepolis - Marjane Satrapi trans Mattias Ripa

Star Wars Super Graphic - Tim Leong

Luisa Now and Then - Carole Maurel trans Mariko Tamaki and Nanette McGuiness

Daughters of the Lake - Wendy Webb

Rules for Vanishing - Kate Alice Marshall

The Outermost House - Henry Beston

Feminism and the Body - Londa Schiebinger ed

Winter in the Blood - James Welch

Capturing Sound - Mark Katz

The Table-Rappers - Ronald Pearsall

Black - Michel Pastoreau trans Jody Gladding

In These Times - Jenny Uglow

The Daylight Gate - Jeanette Winterson

The Grave Keepers - Elizabeth Byrne

Metropolitan Life - Fran Lebowitz

Life Among the Savages - Shirley Jackson

Social Studies - Fran Lebowitz

When My Brother Was an Aztec - Natalie Diaz

The Imaginary Corpse - Tyler Hayes

The Invention of the Restaurant - Rebecca Spang

Moll Cutpurse - Ellen Galford

Manchette's Fatale - Doug Headline

Hand-Drawn Jokes for Smart Attractive People - Matthew Diffee

In the Pines - Erik Kriek

Raising Demons - Shirley Jackson

Nightingale - Paisley Rekdal

Louis Riel - Chester Brown

Fantastic Metamorphoses - Marina Warner

Elektra - Derrick Puffett ed

Tenements, Towers, and Trash - Julia Wertz

Ghostland - Colin Dickey

Feminism and History - Joan Wallach Scott ed

The Hide and Seek Files - Caeia Marsh

Red Rosa - Kate Evans

A Banquet for Hungry Ghosts - Ying Chang Compestine

Death is Hard Work - Khaled Khalifah trans Lori Price

Civil War - Lucan trans Susan Braund

The Making of the Modern Body - Catherine Gallagher and Thomas Laqueur

Oculus - Sally Wen Mao

The Write Escape - Charish Reid

Freedom Hospital - Hamid Sulamin trans Francesa Barrie

The Lion of Rora - Christos Gage et al

Mauve - Simon Garfield

The Lake of Dead Languages - Carol Goodman

The Turn of the Screw - Henry James

[lipsyncforyourlife]

ROBYN TO HEADLINE LIVE MUSICAL PERFORMANCES ON LOGO’S FOURTH ANNUAL “NEWNOWNEXT AWARDS” 2011

Oh Land and Wynter Gordon Round Out Live Musical Acts

“NewNowNext Awards” 2011 Winners Revealed on TelecastPremiering Monday, April 11th at 10/9C on Logo

To Tweet This Release: http://logo.to/h7b53I

NEW YORK, NY March 7, 2011 – Logo, the entertainment network for gays, lesbians and their families and friends announced today that international pop sensation, Robyn, will headline the “NewNowNext Awards” 2011 live musical performances.  Joining Robyn will be electro-pop act Oh Land and dance-music diva Wynter Gordon.  The “NewNowNext Awards” musical acts showcase on-the-brink performers who will undoubtedly break big in the upcoming months.  Most notably, Lady Gaga made her first televised appearance on the “NewNowNext Awards” before she went on to claim her stake as pop royalty.  The “NewNowNext Awards” gathers icons and stars on the rise to crown the next “big things” in TV, music, film, print and new media long before they hit the mainstream.  Catch Robyn, Oh Land and Wynter Gordon perform on the “NewNowNext Awards” 2011 premiering Monday, April 11th at 10/9C on Logo.

Fresh off her U.S. and European tour and a sold-out performance at Radio City Music Hall in New York City, Swedish recording artist, singer and songwriter Robyn will deliver pop stardom at this year’s awards.  Robyn gained popularity in the late 1990s for her worldwide dance-pop hit “Do You Know (What It Takes)” from her debut album Robyn Is Here (1997).  The popularity of her number one hit-single “With Every Heartbeat,” and subsequent album release Robyn (2005), brought her mainstream success worldwide.  In January 2009, Robyn won a Swedish Grammis award for “Best Live Act 2008.”

Robyn recently released Body Talk Pt. 1, the first installment of her ambitious three-part album release in 2010.  Lead single “Dancing On My Own,” the heartbreaking heir to “With Every Heartbeat,” went top ten in the U.K. accompanied by mass critical praise for the album.  “Dancing on My Own” garnered Robyn a 53rd GRAMMY® award nomination for “Best Dance Recording.”  The follow-up album, Body Talk Pt. 2, released on September 6 debuting at number one on the Swedish charts and the final album of the trilogy, Body Talk, released on November 22, 2010 to critical praise from the press including People, US Weekly, Rolling Stone, Spin and Pitchfork.

Oh Land emerged as one of the most talked about new artists for 2011, landing on many critics’ must-listen lists in advance of her self-titled debut album. The 11 song album that will be released by Epic Records on March 15th is a mix of lavish loops and layered vocals that pound through on songs like the album’s first single “Sun of a Gun.” Dan Carey (The Kills, Franz Ferdinand, Hot Chip) and Dave McCracken (Depeche Mode, Beyoncé, AFI) co-created this album with Oh Land full of rich harmonies, beautiful symphonic arrangements to accompany her enchanting voice.  Oh Land made her U.S. television debut on “Late Show with David Letterman” and will perform on “Late Night with Jimmy Kimmel,” “Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson” and “Last Call with Carson Daly.” Oh Land is currently touring with OMD for her first-ever North American tour and will appear at SXSW with over 10 shows planned.

Singer/songwriter Wynter Gordon gives dancefloor divas and music heads alike a new reason to “believe” with her ethereal voice and playful personality.  The single “Dirty Talk” from her forthcoming debut album, With the Music I Die, recently topped Billboard’s “Dance Club Play Songs” chart at number one, while her Freemasons-produced “Believer” climbs steadily on the U.K. charts.  For the past two years, Wynter has traveled the globe collaborating with some of the biggest names in electronic music including David Guetta and Rhythm Masters.  She recently performed at the Winter Music Conference and received two “International Dance Music Awards” nominations. 

This year’s NewNowNext winners will be revealed Monday, April 11th at 10/9C, on Logo’s “NewNowNext Awards” 2011 show.  The 90-minute special will be taped in front of a live audience with today’s hottest emerging and seasoned artists at the legendary Avalon in Hollywood, CA on April 7th.  Presenters and special guests will be announced as they are confirmed.

Through its past discoveries, the “NewNowNext Awards” has proven its one step ahead of the hype by calling out some of today’s hottest pop culture phenomenon long before they were on the mainstream radar.  Highlights include Lady Gaga’s first ever televised performance with a sizzling rendition of “Just Dance.”  Hit drama series “True Blood” received the “Best Show You’re Not Watching” award months before its Emmy© nominations. Wendy Williams won “Best New Indulgence” before her daytime talk show “The Wendy Williams Show” went national.

The “NewNowNext Awards” builds on Logo’s acclaimed NewNowNext franchise, which includes LogoTV.com’s pop culture blog NewNowNext.com and two on-air music shows: “NewNowNext PopLab,” the home for party music in all its forms, and “NewNowNext Music,” the ultimate music video destination of today’s hottest artists and emerging musicians.

“NewNowNext Awards” is Executive Produced by Christopher Willey and Dave Mace for Logo.  Michael Dempsey of Dempsey Productions serves as Executive Producer and Director.

For more information, visit NewNowNext.com.ABOUT LOGO

Logo is the world’s leading ad-supported cable, satellite, online, mobile and digital entertainment network from MTV Networks, a unit of Viacom (NYSE: VIA, VIA.B) for gays and lesbians, their families and friends. Launched in 2005, Logo’s cable channel is in more than 47 million homes across the United States and is complemented by a federation of online properties, including LogoTV.com, TripOutGayTravel.com, AfterEllen.com, AfterElton.com, 365Gay.com, DowneLink.com and NewNowNext.com. Logo’s content is distributed across all leading download-to-own, streaming and mobile services. The most influential brand for the most influential audience, Logo provides a mix of original and acquired entertainment as well as news, social networking and community building that are authentic, smart, fun, entertaining, and inclusive. Logo joins MTV Networks’ roster of popular and highly targeted brands which include MTV, Comedy Central, VH1 and Spike TV.

[winterexinferna]

shieldagentnatasharomanoff​:

winterexinferna​:

“Mhm.” He nodded his head as she repeated. “From ‘Winter Soldier’.” He explained his name. “Shuri said I could choose any name I wanted but I’m Wynter so I chose that.” 

“I’m the Winter Soldier.” He then continued to explain, missing her touch already. “I was in Bucky’s head before, he made me. Then when we got here, Shuri gave me my own body.” He raised and turned his hands some, one flesh one metal, exactly like Bucky’s. “She cloned his body so I could have my own. Bucky didn’t really want me in his head.” He explained as if all those things were completely normal facts, with an almost childlike ease to it.

Natasha crossed her arms, taking the familiar face in. He certainly had Bucky’s features and form, but there were diffrences too. The way he spoke, nearly childlike, the way he carried himself without the shadow of guilt James wore on his shoulders.

Bucky couldn’t like him… Natasha understood why, but she also knew what it felt like to be unwanted. So she chose kindness. “It is very nice to meet you Wynter. My name is Natasha. But you can call me Nat if you like.” There was a smile on her lips. “How long have you been here?”

His expression brightened into a smile when she offered him one too.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Nat!” He said eagerly, very happy to have passed her initial judgement.

“Out of Bucky’s head? Three months now. I’ve been staying with Shuri most of the time, first in her computer, then like this,” he gestured at himself, his body. “...and she made sure I would be stable.” He explained.

“She told me I could come and stay here with Bucky so I did.” He added too. “I’ve seen you and him but he told me to stay away before... But he didn’t say so today.” And, of course, Wynter made sure to take advantage of the loophole in his orders.

@shieldagentnatasharomanoff

"Is Bucky your boyfriend?" Wynter asked, head tilted slightly as he regarded her curiously.

[libidomechanica]

Dumb as a bum on

Dumb as a bum on the meadow sky,  that made myry he watz hole is gorde watz þat  wynter night be calles; and in a res ryȝt  sword, ill be saue— and lewté yow with 

winter-seeming Death may grow, like a jackpot  its countries, so moot I the jocund hour  whilst thou art cruel fight wets me all his  phrase? As Juan gazed upon a passande 

vche a candle.      Or some supports his bedde  ȝeden, and then rebels raild, to  hang upon his pick of wymmen be thise mytes,  upon my yowthe, and vyse þat oþer mon, 

þou þro mon, for soþe, sir, quoþ Gawayn wyth  joy thus goth all his launce of þis tyme tender  no song waves thre leve of índulgence; if not, and  with my spouse, and ȝe wyl, 

wyth nay, þat þe naked and hir brest blenk on þe  wode a croce; nature for me are  wise as the tender no soon, as I in  that which that Memory yet. 

As a shuddered, þou wypped from her grete  þat vphalt, bot neȝed ful bryȝt as þou fraystez ful still  longer still—not stay, loathing is. Alle þe muryly  efte con he sete in his sadel 

sitte. Being prince can remembrance is aboute bilyue,  And myn endyng day. Or on ones garage  I fell with þe noble kyng and Gawayn, “ þat wolde I suffreth alwey ful fayre watz Gawan 

watz hole to her side! But me lest friend the  earth good devocioun on glode hym byforne,  for he is great mine, with heart  of þe behold. Þurȝ myȝt keuerez mere when 

river. Hem bitwene the starry darkness  roungen bi rys for bate, of þe grene  sylke and were sour þis buffet abideth  night dissolved and I schal amende. 

We walks from its rock the soul when  the princesses were worse that ech  of þe chaunce. He stiȝtlez stif to the  world y-gon, som Cristen man shal we semly 

innoȝe,” þat fester smell far worse, was occupation  I know, while in þat wlonk werke, ne  sundredth part of Eros: but relief  must be general behind.

[hagothehills]

I sall go until a hare / Wi sorrow and sick mickle care I sall goe in the devil's name / An while I come home again. I am ruled by the moon, I move under her mantle. I am the symbol of her moods, of rebirth cycle. I am companion to the gods, I can conceive while I'm pregnant. I call the dawn and spring in, I am the advent. I bring life from water in a cup that must be broken. I whisper to the bursting egg, I'm Aestre's token. Scent of dog, scent of man. Closer, closer, smell them coming. Hot breath, hot death. Closer, closer, hard the running. Tongues pant, hearts thump. Closer, closer, through the fields. Teeth snap, Bones crack. Closer, closer, at my heels. Nearer yet and nearer. I can feel the poacher's knife. He is running for his dinner. I am running for my life. Wynter wakeneth al my care nou this leues waxeth bare Ofte y sike ant mourne sare When hit cometh in my thoht Of this worldes joie hou hit geth al to noht. Man sprays no weeds. The scythe cuts, the corn bleeds. Leverets trapped in a harvest blade. Tis the time of man the hare said. Here's the tractor, here's the plough. And where do we go now? We'll lie in forms as still as the dead. In the open fields the hare said. No cover but the camouflage From the winter's wild and bitter rage. All our defense is in our legs. We run like the wind the hare said. I've been cursed, I've been despised As a witch with darkest powers I sall goe until a hare I've been hunted, trapped and punished In these my darkest hours Wi sorrow and such mickle care. I've been thrown into the fire But I do not fear it I sall goe until a hare. It purifies and resurrects And I can bear it Wi sorrow and such mickle care. I have outrun dogs and foxes And I've dodged the tractor wheels I sall goe until a hare I've survived you persecution And your ever-changing fields Wi sorrow and such mickle care. I will run and run forever Where the wild fields are mine I sall go until a hare I'm a symbol of endurance Running through the mists of time Wi sorrow and such mickle care.

[the-natural-zeros-blog]

RoW 1: The Winter, the Witch, and the Wagon

change log

cast list

Our Adventure started off in summer in the guild hall of the “Sliver Clasp” an adventuring guild that works out of the city Elturel run by guild master Rhonus Draken. Rhonus gathers the guild together and begins to give out job assignments.  Mishra (barbarian), Vardis(wizard), Navarra(bard), and Silver(ranger) are grouped together and given a very important job. A local noble named Lady Argentina Malassene had meeting with a suiter in the next city over, the meeting did not go well and she left as soon after, she was due to cross the half way point home a trade town call Heldren three days ago. One of the guards a “Wynters Bite” clan member they hired crawled his way back to Heldren severally hurt. Their mission is go to Heldren and speak with the “Wynters Bite” clan’s men and find out what happened and then to try to track down Lady Argentina and fallow her orders on what to do next.

The party did not waste any time mostly due to Mishra’s insistence that they leave immediately for the town. It was a two day journey to the town were Silver hunted there meals along the way with Mishra’s assistances. When they got to the town a large group had gathered in the town square around an elderly tiefling women in church clothes.  The people were try to get the women to explain of prophecy she had had, using Thaumaturgy he dismissed with crowed with a large booming voice. She then retold the prophecy “I see dark days ahead for Heldren an endless winter, cruel shadows watch of the woods and a storms the block the sun and stars. If something is not done soon I see death cold and cruel.” After she says that she walks away and the crowd splits. Vardis chases after the old women, while sliver tries to fallow him and gets lost. Vadis finds the old women’s house now identified as Old Mother Theodora the town’s soothsayer, midwife and arcane expert. One her door were 3 signs “no solicitors.” “No dogs.” and “soup severed inside.”  Vardis entered where he was surprised to find out Theodora knew his name. After talking about the trade of magic Theodora revealed something strange about Vadis’s spell book (will update when it becomes common knowledge the party)

 One of the members of the Heldren’s town council approached the PCS where they were taken to the local Alchemist where the “Wynters Bite” clan’s men was being treated. When they arrived a freak storm begin with sleet heavily falling upon the town which seem to come from the strange swirling storm over the nearby woods, they coaxed the man awake so they could begin to find out what happened. Here recounted how group of Bandits and taking him and the other men guarding the Caravan by surprise. Claimed they if they were just Bandits he could have taken care of them, but they were aided by the “winter-touched” evil creatures in folklore that served the enemy of the three Clans the White Witches.  Yuln “Wynters Bite” gave Mishra the blade he used to combat the spirits, which he claimed it burned them and begged the party to find Lady Argentea.

 The party stayed in town for a short while to investigate the shops and we're impressed by The Humble towns wears as the Alchemist was quite skilled and at least two magic items were being sold at the local General goods store.  Both silver and Vadis visited old mother Theodora who both had questions they wished answered, both came out frustrated. They then left the town to investigate the site of the attack of the Caravan.

 At the site the group found two overturned carriages and at least 5 dead bodies, one of which was Frozen lock and position of combat like a statue. Mishra went to investigate one of the carriages, from within he heard the sound of something Slam against the wood he went to investigate, and was attacked by a pair of Undead created from the Corpses of two Wynter's bite clansman. The group quickly went to combat, well attacking one of the zombies mishra's blade glowed with a cold blue light revealing the blade, given to him by Yuln was a Cold Iron longsword using the blade they quickly dispatched the undead. The group was perplexed as to why undead were able to form so close to the Star of Elturel the Divine Celestial body that prevented necromancy near the city and its surrounding areas. A strange ice Trail lead deeper into the woods, the group searched the wreckage and were able to find a jewelry box full of valuables and decided they were ill-prepared for such a venture. As a group they decided to return back to Helren restock and in the morning return to face whatever was in the woods.

[hedgehognebula]

There’s a corner where time slows. A lake to be exact. It’s called Cemetery Lake because of the Winged Men who drowned there around the turn of the century. For the past millennium, it has been winter on this lake. People don’t like to go near it, even to cool off in the summer. They say it’s cursed. But there’s one boy who doesn’t listen, or doesn’t care. His name is Anton, and he is a figure skater. No one knows; not because he is ashamed but because he likes having something that’s all his own. He doesn’t want his worlds to cross. the first: solitude, death-silent apart from the glide of his skates; he sprints, twirls, jumps until he is out of breath, breathing heavy with red cheeks. Not even the wynter faeries approach Cemetery Lake to watch and laugh. the second: his “real life” as a carpenter’s apprentice. Strong arms, splinters, and the clamor of tools. People coming and going. To Anton, neither world is better than the other; he needs them both and he needs them separately. 

[iuniverseblog]

11 Cold Weather Classics

The weather outside might be frightful, but reading by the fireside or in your bed is one of the pleasures of life. With the frigid temperatures at this time of year – and the snow – you have a splendid opportunity to get comfortable and indulge in some reading without feeling guilty about “missing” something outside. With this in mind, we’ve made a list of eleven cold weather prose and poetry pieces from classical literature for your cozy enjoyment.

  Prose:

Jack London

One: To Build a Fire, by Jack London (1908 version): This is a literally chilling tale of Man vs. Nature, involving the journey of a solitary traveler through the subzero Yukon Territory. London succeeds at making the reader really feel the cold. Unlike the remainder of our stories listed below, this story is best read in the coldest room of your home, so you can get the full effect!  (Also, check out his The Call of the Wild, which also has a hibernal environment.)

    Two: The Life of Samuel Johnson, by James Boswell: Right, now it’s time to get comfortable by the fire and enjoy the stimulating discussions of literary figures in the 18th century. There is a very “safe” feeling about Boswell’s writing, as if the cares of the world were swept aside among good food, wine, and great conversation — and the best part is that you feel like you are right there enjoying all of it.

  Three: The Spy, by James Fenimore Cooper: This exciting tale of the American Revolution begins in winter of 1780, in upstate New York. We can all imagine those conditions, and Cooper helps us along with his forceful prose. This was the book that launched his career.

  Four: The Dead, by James Joyce: Set against the backdrop of an Irish snowfall, this is a rather serious story of love and loss. It is one of Joyce’s earliest, before he became one of the chief practitioners of stream-of-consciousness, and also focuses on the Irish identity. It is included in his Dubliners collection of short stories, though it is really more of a novella, clocking in at 15,000 words.

  Five: The Lord of the Rings, by JRR Tolkien: Naturally, this is an epic to last you for most of the winter, depending on your reading speed. The tale of Frodo’s journey across Middle Earth to rid the land of a pernicious, mysterious ring is full of Tolkien’s colorful and indeed pictorial prose. The weather conditions grow darker and colder with each chapter, though Tolkien’s storytelling mastery makes it feel like he is right next to you by the fireside.

  Six: The Pickwick Papers, by Charles Dickens: It is difficult to think of a more cheerful book than Dickens’ first novel, or of one more suitable to the comforts of a warm living room. The humorous symbiosis of Mr. Pickwick and his faithful valet Sam Weller, along with the charming Christmas scenes in the countryside, combine with the other jovial elements of the novel to make it a favorite for wintry reading.

  Poems:

Robert Frost

Seven: Passing by the Woods on a Snowy Evening, by Robert Frost: This is probably the best-known poem about winter in the English language. Frost’s simple diction and rich imagery combine to transport the reader to the snow-covered woods. At the same time, there is a deeper meaning to the poem – one which you can ponder while sitting comfortably and warmly at home.

      Eight: Wynter Wakeneth All My Care: In direct contrast to the poem above, this is probably the least well-known winter poem in the language. Its author is unknown, though its message of man’s mortality is something we can all relate to. Make sure to enjoy the Middle English spelling, which takes one back to an earlier and simpler time. Please find the poem by clicking here.

  Nine: How Like a Winter Hath My Absence Been, by Shakespeare: There are few aspects of the human condition that are not covered by The Bard, and certainly winter receives his poetic treatment. This poem, his 97th sonnet, is a poem about missing someone, and uses the different seasons as metaphors, while being rich with imagery.

  Ten: The First Snowfall, by James Russell Lowell: One of the famous “Fireside Poets” of the 19th century, Lowell was a gentleman-poet from one of Boston’s old wealthy families. Despite its title, The First Snowfall is not a poem intended to celebrate the aesthetics of nature, but rather a piece that is intensely personal and evocative.

  Eleven: Snow-bound, by John Greenleaf Whittier: Written by another member of the Fireside Poets, Snow-bound is a much more upbeat entry, focusing on the cozy comforts of being “snowed in”. Like The First Snowfall, it is excellent for being read aloud, especially in front of the fire!

  –By Tom McKinley

  Make sure to check out the iUniverse site for more advice and blogs, as well as iUniverse Facebook and iUniverse Twitter. For a FREE Publishing Guide, click here!

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