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thoraway125 · 2 years

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Every book/movie/show Sara Quin has recommended.

and some reviews at the bottom, not the ones on skq reads

Books

Abandon Me by Melissa Febos

After the Tall Timber: Collected Nonfiction by Reneta Adler

Against Everything by Mark Grief

A Gate at the Stairs by Lorrie Moore

Air Guitar: Essays on Art & Democracy by Dave Hickey

Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & and Clay by Michael Chaboan

A Lover’s Discourse by Roland Barthes

A Moveable Feast by Ernest Hemingway

A Natural History of the Senses by Diane Ackerman

*An Education by Susan Choi

*Anything That Moves, Dana Goodyear

*Are You My Mother? By Alison Bechdel

*Artful by Ali Smith

*A Sport and a Pastime by James Salter

Asymmetry by Lisa Halliday

Asterios Polyp by David Mazzucchelli

Atmospheric Disturbances by Rivka Galchen

A Visit from the Goon Squad by Jennifer Egan

*A Widow for One Year by John Irving

A Zine Yearbook by Jason Kucsma

Barbarian Days Surfing Life by William Finegan

Bark by Lorrie Moore

Barney’s Version by Mortecai Richler

Behind The Beautiful Forevers: Life, Death, and Hope in a Mumbai Undercity by Katherine Boo

Berlin Stories by Robert Walser

Borne by Jeff VadnerMeer

Bossy Pants by Tina Fey

Blood Horses by John Jeremiah Sullivan

By Blood by Ellen Ullman

By Grand Central Station by Elizabeth Smart

Call Me By Your Name by Andre Aciman

Can’t and Won’t by Lydia Davis

Cats & Plants by Stephen Eichhorn

Changed my Mind by Zadie Smith

Cleopathra: A Life by Stacy Schiff

Colour by Icons by Never Apart

*Conversations With Friends by Sally Rooney

Death & Co by Alex Day and more

Dept. of Speculation by Jenny Offill

Diary of a Bad Year by J.M Coetzee

Don’t Get Too Comfortable by David Rakoff

Do What You Want by Ruby Tandoh

Dykes to Watch Out For by Alison Bechel

Einstein’s Dreams by Alan Lightman

Empire Of Illusion by Chris Hedges

Empty Nest End of Eddy by Edouard Louis

Epilectic by David Beauchard Essays Against Everything by Mark Grief

Essex County by Jeff Lemire

Everything Ravaged, Everything Burned by Wells Tower

*Far From the Tree by Andrew Solomon

Farther Away: Essays by Jonathan Franzen

Fear of Music by Jonathan Lethem

Feeding My Mother by Jane Arden

Fifteen Dogs by Andre Alexis

*Flutter by Jennie Wood

Forty One False Starts by Janet Malcolms

Forgive Me if I’ve Told You This Before by Karelia Stetz Waters

Fosse by Sam Wasson

Fraud Essays by David Rakoff

Fun Home: A Family Tragicomic by Alison Bechel

Getting A Life: Stories by Helen Simpson

Girls in the Moon by Janet McNally

Go Ask Alice by Beatrice Sparks *Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn

Groomed by Jess Rona

*Habibi by Craig Thompson

Half Empty by David Rake

Helter Skelter by Curt Gentry and Vincent Bugliosi

Her Body And Other Parties by Carmen Machado

Here Comes the Sun by Nicole Dennis Benn

Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth the II by Christopher Warwick

*H is For Hawk by Helen Macdonald

*Hotel New Hampshire by John Irving

Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins

I Am a Camera by John Van Druten

I Love Dick by Chris Kraus

Important Artifacts and Personal Property from the Collection of Lenore Doolan and Harold Morries, Including Books, Street Fashion, and Jewelry by Leanne Shapton

*Independence Day by Richard Ford

Independent people by Halldor Laxness

Intimacy by Jean-Paul-Satre

I Pass Like Night by Jonathan Ames

I Want To Show You More by Jamie Quatro

Jamilti and Other Stories by Rutu Modan

Juliet Takes a Breath by Gabby Rivera

*Kramers Ergot by Sammy Harkham

Krazy! By Bruce Grenville

Leaving the Atocha Station by Ben Lerner

*Let’s Explore Diabetes With Owls- David Sedaris

Let the Great World Spin by Colum McCann

*Light Years by James Salter

Likewise by Ariel Shrag

Little Fires Everywhere by Celeste Ng

Love Dishonor Marry Die Cherish Perish by David Rakoff

Love In Infant Monkeys by Lydia Millet

Making Nice by Matt Sumell

Margaret Fuller: A New American Life by Megan Marshall

May We Be Forgiven by A.M Homes

Mean by Myriam Gurba

Me before You by Jojo Moyes

Monkey Grip by Helen Garner

Mother of All Questions by Rebecca Solnit Music for Torching by A.M Homes

*My Education by Susan Choi

My Father’s Tears and Other Stories by John Updike

My Lifte in France, Julia Child and Alex Prud’homme

My Misspent Youth by Meghan Daum

Mourning Diary by Roland Barthes

My Struggle by Karl One Knausgaard

My Struggle 2 by Karl One Knausgaard

Mythologies by Roland Barthes

Nasty Woman by Heather McDaid

Netherland by Joseph O’Neill

Nightfilm by Marisha Pessl

Nobody Is Ever Missing by Catherine Lacey

No Straight Lines: Four Decades of Queer Comics by Justin Hall

Notes on a Foreign Country by Suzy Hansen

Nothing to be Frightened of by Julien Barnes

On Boxing by Joyce Carol Oates

Open City by Teju Cole

Opposite of Hate by Sally Kohn

*Paper Lantern: Love Stories by Stuart Dybek

Pauline Kael: A Life In The Dark by Brian Kellow

Paying For It by Chester Brown

*Pirates and Farmers by Dave Hickey

*Pitch Dark by Renata Alder

Political Fictions by Joan Didion

Polyamorous Love Song by Jacob Wren

Priestdaddy by Patricia Lockwood

*Provence 1970 by Luke Barr

Pulphead-Essays by John Jeremiah Sullivan

*Random Family by Adrian NicoleLeBlanc

Senselessness by Horacio Castellanos Moya

She believed she could so she did by Julie ‘Hesta Prynn’ Slavin

She of the Mountains by Vivek Shraya

Somebody with a Little Hammer by Mary Gaitskill

Speedboat by Renata Adler

Special Exits by Joyce Farmer

State of Wonder by Ann Patchet

Stoner by John Williams

Summertime by J.M Coetzee

Sweet Tooth by Jeff Lemire

Swing Time by Zadie Smith

**Tenth of December by George Saunders

That Summer Time Sound- Matthew Specktor (sara narrates a part in the audio version)

The Art of Fielding by Chad Harbach

The Association of Small Bombs by Karan Mahajan

The Best American Comics 2007 by Charles Burns

The Best American Nonrequired Reading 2009 by David Eggers

The Cement Garden by Ian McEwan

The Children of Palomar by Gilbert Hernandez

The City and the Pillar by Gore Vidal

The Birth House by Ami McKay

The Book of Laughter and Forgetting by Milan Kundera

The Dark Room by Susan Faludi

*The Days of Abandonment by Elena Ferrante

The Disappointment Artist by Jonathan Lethem

The Doors Of Perception and Heaven and Hell by Aldous Huxley

The Ecstasy of Influence: Nonfictions by Jonathan Lethem

The End of The Story by Lydia Davis

The Essential Elle Willis by Ellen Willis

The Fight by Norman Mailer

*The Flamethrowers by Rachel Kushner

The Folded Clock by Heidi Julavits

The Forgotten Waltz by Anne Enright

The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt

*The Guest Cat by Takashi Hiraide

The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins

The Idiot by Elif Batumam

The Informed Air by Muriel Spark

The Innovator’s Dilemma: When New Technologies Cause Great Firms to Fail by Clayton M. Christensen

The Interestings by Meg Wolitzer

*The Invention of Solitude by Paul Auster

The Irresponsible Self by James Woods

The Journalist and the Murderer by Janet Malcom

**The Last Word: Reviving the Dying Art of Eulogy by Julia Cooper

The Little Red Chairs by by Edna O’Brien

The Man Without Qualities by Robert Musil

The Marriage Plot by Jeffrey Eugenides

The Missing Piece by Shel Silverstein

The Missing Piece Meets The Big O by Shel Silverstein

The Moronic Inferno by Martin Amis

The Mother of All Questions by Rebecca Solnit

The Neopolitan Novels by Elena Ferrante

The Nobody by Jeff Lemire

The Noonday Demon: An Atlas of Depression by Andrew Solomon

The People in the Trees- Hanya Yanagihara

The Notebooks of Malte Laurid’s Brigge by Rainer Maria Rilke

The Price of Salt by Patricia Highsmith

The Property by Rutu Modan

The Remains of the Day by Kazuo Ishiguro

The Road by Cormac McCarthy

The Rules Do Not Apply by Ariel Levy

This life by Martin hagglund

The Sense Of An Ending by Julian Barnes

The Slow Man by J.M Coetzee

The Spirit catches you and you fall down by Anne Fadiman

The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway

The Topeka School by Ben Lerner65

The War Against Cliche by Martin Amis

The Yiddish Policemen’s Union by Michael Chabon

Things Are What You Make Of Them by Adam J. Kurtz

Thinking, Fast And Slow’ by Daniel Kahneman

*This is How You Lose Her by Junot Diaz

Those Who Leave and Those Who Stay by Elena Ferrante

To my Trans Sisters by Charlie Croggs

Tranny by Laura Jane Grace

True Stories by Helen Garner

Two Lives: Gertrude and Alice by Janet Malcolm

Unless by Carol Shields

Versed by Rae Armantrout

Visiting Mrs. Nabokov by Martin Amis

Vitamin PH: New Perspectives in Photography by Rodrigo Alonso

Waiting for the Barbarians by J.M Coetzee

WACK! Art and The Feminist Revolution by Cornelia Butler

*Wake In Fright by Kenneth Cook

Wanderlust A History of Walking by Rebecca Saint

Ways of Seeing by John Berger

*We Are All Completely Besides Ourselves by Karen Joy Fowler

Whatever happened to Interracial Love by Kathleen Colleens

What Happened by Hillary Rodham Clinton

What I Talk About When I Talk About Running by Haruki Murakami

When Things Go Missing by Kathryn Schulz

*White Girls by Hilton Als

Winter by Ali Smith

Women by Charles Bukowski

(Woman) Writer: by Joyce Carol Oates

Works of Love by Søren Kierkegaard

1Q84 by Haruki Murakami

*100 Essays I don’t Have Time To Write by Sarah Ruhl

-Any works written by Renata Adler, Edward Albee, Roland Barthes, Alison Bechel, Beverly Cleary, J.M Coetzee, Susan Faludi, David Hickey, Elena Ferrante, Stephen King, John Irving, Jeff Lemire, and Lorrie Moore, and David Rakoff, Anne Rice, Donna Tartt, and John Updike

Magazines Harper’s Lapham’s Quarterly Rolling Stones SPIN The Believer (August 2003, September 2004, November 2004, October 2008, November/December 2008, March/April 2009, June 2009) The New Yorker

Bookstores Drawn and Quarterly in Montreal Sam Wellers Zion in salt lake LA Strand Books Housingworks Mcleods in Vancouver Powells

Sara wrote something short in ‘do what you want’ by ruby tandoh

also wrote the preface to jess rona’s book

Movies, Documentaries, Shows, Podcasts etc

Adventures in Babysitting

Arrested Development

*Bachelorette

Beauty is EmbarrassingBlack Power Mix Tape

*Bojack Horsemen (same artist as the Hang On music video)Broadchurch

Brothers and Sisters

Brown Girls

Bugsy Malone

Call me By Your Name

Luca Guadagnino

Cameraperson by Kirsten Johnson

*Charlie Rose

*ChungKing Express

*Dan Savage Lovecast

***DeadWood

Drinking Buddies

Fresh Air with Terry Gross

Friday Night Lights

Full House

Game of Thrones

GarfieldGolden Girls Goonies

*Holy Motors

Home ImprovementI

nside Out

In The Loop

Lake

Legion

Little Shop of Horrors

L.O.V.E (tv series)

Madmen

Milk 2008

Moonlight

Nashville

Neon Bull

Orange Is The New BlackPhantom of The Paradise Rocky Horror Picture Show Sense8ShamelessShort Cut because 1992 Julianne Moore

Simon Killer

Sopranos Talk

RadioSpeed the Plow by David Mamet

Still Processing

Terminator 2

Terry Gross Fresh air NPR

The Bridge

The Crown

The Fall

The Fugitive

The Leftovers

The Minipops

The Thick of It

The Office (UK)

The Property Brothers

The Real Housewives of (anywhere)

The Wire

*This American Life

Tom Petty- Running Down A Dream

Trueblood

WALL-E

War of the Worlds

War Witch

Weiner-Dog

West Wing

2Dope Queens

13 Monkeys

30 Rock

and here’s some more book reviews from Sara

Outline

by Rachel Cusk

The truth is that I struggled to pick my favorite book or writing from Rachel Cusk. All three novels in her

Outline series

are fantastic, and I’ve reread each of them first with passion and then again with a studious eye. For me there is the lonely, yet pragmatic, keen observational protagonist that appeals to me deeply. But also, a woman traveling, forever on the receiving end of looping conversation with strangers. I find her writing extremely romantic. What I’d most like to include on this list, is a piece of her writing from the

New York Times Magazine

: "Making House: Notes on Domesticity." It is a perfect piece of writing about the struggle of making a home and living it in comfortably. “Like the body itself, a home is something both looked at and lived in, a duality that in neither case I have managed to reconcile. I retain the belief that other people’s homes are real where mine is a fabrication, just as I imagine others to live inner lives less flawed than my own.

”

Fire Sermon

by Jamie Quatro

Jamie Quatro’s novel about devotion, longing, lust and god was impossible to put down. I read it in one giant gulp. While male writers are given ample opportunity to write about these ideas, it still feels rare and thrilling when women do.

Sing, Unburied, Sing

by Jesmyn Ward

Everything Jesmyn Ward has written has haunted me afterward. Unblinking, brutal, heartbreaking stories. Her writing feels both modern and like something from a masterpiece that every student is meant to read in high school or college.

The Topeka School

by Ben Lerner

I love a hook, a melody that on first listen gives you goosebumps, or makes your stomach lurch up to your throat. Sometimes I hear one and I think, “that is a smash,” and then settle in to envy that I didn’t write the song myself. That was the feeling I had reading

I couldn’t help but compare our memoir because both books center adolescence and high school at their core. While Ben writes dazzlingly about masculinity and violence and the bubbling rage of teenage boys, I thought about the way we wrote about the paralysis and fear of being a queer girl in that same kind of world. While his boys turn their rage outward, we focused our violence inward, on the most tender parts of ourselves. Ben’s writing opens a door to understanding something about my own experience of those adolescent years. He sheds light on the parents and teachers whose complicated lives indelibly haunt our own, in ways we don’t realize until we become adults. It seems much of our public conversation revolves around what to do about and with men,

The Topeka School is a thrilling response. All of that to say, I think Ben’s book is a smash.

JUNE 3, 2009 1. The Flamethrowers by Rachel KushnerI was so captivated there was no choice but to finish it entirely in one long stretch of days. Passages so beautiful that I found myself re-reading them over and over again in amazement. I think it was in the Harpers Magazine review that they called it feminist and sexy. It’s true. An entirely fresh and inspiring heroine. 2. Light Years by James SalterSo many tears; on the tarmac, on the subway, tucked in my bus bunk. I will cherish this book forever. It is 40 years old and that made the discovery so much more powerful. It’s also a good reminder that I am sentimental and a romantic no matter how hard I try to resist those urges. I’ll cozy up with my tears any day, you can’t shame me! 3. Tenth of December by George SaundersThere aren’t very many writers with a body of work I love so completely. But, I think this is my absolute favourite. I have total admiration/awe for a mind this strange and wonderful

#tegan wrote a song for this book called Wolf at the Table by Augusten Burroughs #it sounds like it could be in the con #you can search it on youtube it's there #there's some * asteriks cause she spoke mo #more about those #or liked them more #Sara Quin #tegan and sara #i'm sorry if i'm spamming tns tags with so much text i only have like 5 posts to make i swear #i've had this shit in my notes for like literally 10 years #from like #and stuff from their insta story or other things #interviews #SKQREADS #arrested development and the crown are both so good #and Moonlight

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barrymccaulkinem · 1 year

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2, 5, 10, 19, 29 for the Mad Men asks :)

-Least favorite character(s)?

if real ppl count (or stand ins for real ppl I didn't check the name) then its the CEO of Dow Chemical, Ken Cosgrove's father-in-law. but thats cheating so I'll say Betty. Time and time again I want to offer her my pity and then she does something heinous and I cannot.

-Favorite episode(s)?

The methisode (s06 "The Crash") was very entertaining lol. Also the one that Don plays Roger to make him look really bad in front of clients idr which that was

-Anything they should have added to the plot?

I don't think so.. I dont remember any glaring omissions but I've only seen it once so far

-Most surprising moment in the series?

What comes to mind is the behavior that got Michael Ginsberg committed (his "gift" to Peggy)

-What do you think will happen in the Mad Men universe after the series finale?

for coming up with perhaps the most successful commercial of his time I think Don is allowed to do whatever he pleases at McCann for as long as he is able before he dies young of cirrhosis of the liver or lung cancer. Idk if I see Peggy and Stan together for the rest of their lives but I think they have a good time while it lasts. and I hope Joan is successful. Sally will be fine, the two boys aren't featured enough or old enough to say, I think

Mad Men ask game

#i mean without therapy sally risks being as bad a mother as betty if she goes that way. but thats just american lol #mad men

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filmes-online-facil · 2 years

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Assistir Filme Olho por Olho Online fácil

Assistir Filme Olho por Olho Online Fácil é só aqui: https://filmesonlinefacil.com/filme/olho-por-olho-2/

Olho por Olho - Filmes Online Fácil

Uma mulher de classe média alta, Karen McCann (Sally Field), mãe de duas filhas e feliz no casamento, tem esta harmonia desfeita quando, ao conversar com a filha através do celular no meio de um engarrafamento, ouve sons nítidos de que ela está sendo atacada. Ao chegar na sua casa, descobre que ela foi estuprada e assassinada. Robert Doob (Kiefer Sutherland), o provável culpado, é libertado por um detalhe técnico. Assim ela passa a segui-lo e se convence que ele vai matar de novo. Consegue então uma arma, aprende defesa pessoal e planeja fazer o quer a justiça não fez.

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damnitandy · 1 year

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for the book ask thing : 2, 22 and 23 :)

2. Did you reread anything? What?

i actually rered quite a lot this year. it was my reliving my cringe 14 year old book obsessions year. so i reread a series by sally green called "half bad" (actually better than i expected), i reread the raven cycle, and im currently rereading the all for the game series (which i do every year anyway). aside from that i reread dracula bc of dracula daily and hamlet for a lit class, as well as rosencrantz and guildenstern are dead.

22. What’s the longest book you read?

a lot of the books i read this year were fairly short, but i think the longest i read was "as meat loves salt" by maria mccann. really good book btw give it a go

23. What’s the fastest time it took you to read a book?

definitely a streetcar named desire. i read that in one sitting and its a short play as is. other contenders are "the arrival" by shaun tan (it doesnt have words so i didnt count it), God Bless You, Dr. Kevorkian and "cowboy logic" by kinky friedman (i found it in an op shop LOL).

thanks so much for the ask!

#ask #pitipossum #sh andy is talking

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poettier · 2 years

Video

vimeo

Airbnb gift card (2021) from Nicolas Ménard on Vimeo.

A series of charming stop motion vignettes to promote Airbnb's gift card, co-directed with Jack Cunningham at Nexus Studios. All handmade and captured in camera.

Check out the making of to see how it was made: vimeo.com/657121786

CREDITS

Produced by: Nexus Studios Directors: Nicolas Ménard & Jack Cunningham Senior Producer: Cindy Burnay Technical Lead (3D print process): Dave Hunt VFX Supervisor: German Diez Studio Production Assistant: Violeta Fellay Character Designer: James Graham Concept Designer: Laurie Rollitt 3D Animator: Alex Toufaili 3D Animator: Rémy Herissé 3D Animator: Julien Loth 3D Modeller: Andy Hickinbottom 3D Modeller: Matt Clark 3D Modeller: Andy Spence 3D Modeller: Francis-Xavier Martins 3D Rigging: Minimo

Shoot Crew: Production Manager: Caroline Milsom Director Of Photography: Ian Forbes 1st AC / Motion Control: Max Halstead 2nd AC / BTS: George Warren Animator: Andy Biddle B roll Animator: Matt Fearenga Animation Rigger: Robin Jackson Model Maker SFX Supervisor: Simon Allen Model Maker SFX Standby: Lukasz Trembowski Gaffer: Elliot Beach Electrician: Sami Weller Runner/Trainee PA: Polly Burnay Runner: Lilia Turki Basla

Editing: Dave Slade, Zaki Fulford, Ben Hunt

VFX Supervisor: German Diez Compositors: Cintia Coll, Gareth Tredrea, Sander Saks, Lisa Mandelli

Grade: Black Kite Colorist: George Kyriacou Production Coordinator: Jade Denne Senior Producer: Hannah Ruddleston

Sound: Barking Owl Sound Designer: Stuart Welch Assistant Mixer: Mikayla Peterson Assistant Mixer: Lily McCann Executive Producer: Ashley Benton

Additional Crew 2D animator: Iris Abols 2D animator: Duncan Gist

Set Design & Models: Asylum Models & Effects Models & Effects Supervisor: Simon Allen SFX Standby & Model Maker: Lukasz Trembowski Model Maker: Josh Guess Model Maker: James Upton Senior Model Makers: Lee Sutton Senior Model Makers: Peter Tilbe CNC Operator: Jonathan Wanford CNC Operator: Paul Boyd Electronic Engineer: Dan Coffey

Models & Hand Painting: Andy Gent / Arch Model Studio Supervising Modeller: Andy Gent Modellers: Molly Porter, Agatha Roudaut, Sarah Welsman, Nancy O'connor, Angela Pang, Meghan Hursthouse, Sally Taylor

Client: Airbnb VP, Creative: Scott Trattner VP, Creative: Eric Grunbaum Director, Brand Creative: Bekah Sirrine Creative Lead, Copy: Krista Wicklund Creative Lead, Art: Gustavo Sousa Creative Lead, Art: Michael Kremer Creative Lead, Design: Evan Nagan Creative Lead, Motion: Zipeng Zhu Creative Lead, Copy: Jason Ferguson Art Director: Anna Salazar Creative Production Lead: Bud Johnston Executive Producer: Anastassia Babanskaia Senior Marketing Lead: Kelly Phillips

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yoga--faith · 2 years

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♻️ • @michelle.thielen It’s a really good day to be a part of YogaFaith University! I can’t wait for a monthly live call to talk about international retreats now that our borders have been opened - people are hungry to gather and desperate for Jesus! It’s difficult to find in-depth information on international retreats, my friend Laura Burkhart and I took a deep and comprehensive dive to share with you how to have wildly successful, yet life transforming retreats - local or international, but this month our focus was on international. We have a low monthly membership at YFU that covers 12 pillars. We host experts within these 12 areas while you work with lead trainers Sally McCateer, Derek Thielen and myself. There is also a CEC package to cover the organizations you’re affiliated with - it seriously is the best journey and place of accountability, connection, fellowship and iron sharpening iron toward your God-given destiny! @sallysmat @derek_thielen @lauraburkhartyoga @yogafaith #retreats #LETSGO #YFU #YOGAFAITH #CECS #TRAVEL #travellingyogi #internationalretreats #christianyoga #yogafaithretreats Ps. I can’t wait to see you on the fall in the LBI New Jersey) with another YF Retreat Master Rosy McCann - message @yogafaith_unplug_and_reconnect as 2 spaces have become available 💝💝💝 (at YOGA FAITH) https://www.instagram.com/p/CgzcRF_LuOa/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#retreats #letsgo #yfu #yogafaith #cecs #travel #travellingyogi #internationalretreats #christianyoga #yogafaithretreats

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nerdygaymormon · 2 years

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#eli mccann #mark smit #sarah radz #sally h n wright #current policies bring bad fruit #we know the church should change #church scared to undermine past prophets #I don’t think church will change until the pain of not changing is too great #queerstake

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panicatthedalek · 6 years

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I need more Michelle Gomez on my dash. Reblog with your favorite pics, gifs, and stories of her and/or her characters.

#please and thank you #Michelle Gomez #gomez master #sue white #madame satan #mary wardell #Isobel pickwell #sally bobbins #janice mccann #harriet bailes #god i love her

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augustusaugustus · 2 months

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10.124 Backlash

It’s time for Sally’s manslaughter trial, and I am so here for her business lesbian style for it. Sally’s always really beautiful, but she’s downright stunning in this episode.

Love the little IC touch of Rod & Steve looking at cars in Auto Trader together in the witness room.

QC: Were you acting in your own best interests, do you think? JOHNSON: Judging by where I am now, definitely not.

WITNESS: I’m going to be the most unpopular person on this estate. CONWAY: And if you don’t give evidence, you’re going to be the most unpopular person at Sun Hill nick.

(Danny John-Jules looking fiiiiine in a guest role, although he always looks wrong with his real teeth.)

FOREPERSON: Not guilty.

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brokehorrorfan · 3 years

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Eye for an Eye is available on Blu-ray via Paramount. The 1996 psychological thriller is directed by John Schlesinger (Midnight Cowboy, Marathon Man).

Sally Field, Kiefer Sutherland, Ed Harris, Beverly D'Angelo, Joe Mantegna, and Charlayne Woodard star. Amanda Silver & Rick Jaffa (Jurassic World, Rise of the Planet of the Apes) wrote the script, based on the 1993 novel by Erika Holzer.

No special features are included.

Harried working mom Karen McCann (Sally Field) is stuck in traffic, talking on the phone to her teenage daughter at home, when she hears an intruder break into the house and murder her child. Although the killer (Kiefer Sutherland) is arrested, a legal technicality leads to his release. Despite the best efforts of her patient husband (Ed Harris), a sympathetic police detective (Joe Mantegna) and a victims'-rights counselor (Charlayne Woodard), Karen becomes obsessed with taking revenge.

Pre-order Eye for an Eye from Amazon.

#eye for an eye #sally field #kiefer sutherland #ed harris #beverly d'angelo #joe mantegna #charlayne woodard #dvd #gift #john schlesinger #erika holzer #jurassic world #90s movies #1990s movies #psychological thriller

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ninaemsaopaulo · 7 years

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MAD MEN: não tenho medo de assumir que fui atrás de um rostinho bonito sem esperar muito da série Mad Men, com a certeza de que sete temporadas protagonizadas por um homem vivendo a publicidade nos anos 60 não era a premissa que me interessava, provavelmente eu não continuaria assistindo, mas vamos ver no que vai dar. Um belo dia, já viciada em Black Mirror ~antes de virar modinha~, um episódio natalino & especial trouxe Jon Hamm para a minha vida e acho que nunca mais ele se afastará, diferente de seu personagem consagrado, Don Draper, que não consegue ficar perto de ninguém. Jon Hamm surgiu na tela com seus olhos verdes e voz firme, exigindo atenção e caio fácil nesse golpe. Fiz um post no Facebook perguntando “gente, quenhé?” e me informaram: fez Mad Men, ambientada nos anos 60, sobre um escritório de publicidade. Torci o nariz, mas lembrei que amo a época, então ok, vamos conferir. E, nessa madrugada, finalizei a série, por isso trago olhos inchados e a certeza de que foi um dos finais mais instigantes que já assisti, pelo seu rumo inesperado para a maioria. Mas, convém retomar o início. Quando Mad Men começa, Don Draper é diretor de criação em ascensão, o maior destaque da agência para a qual trabalha, a Sterling-Cooper. Draper é um gênio destemido e um homem desejável. Coleciona amantes, apesar de ter a família do comercial de margarina, com direito a esposa-troféu: uma ex-modelo de ascendência alemã, loira, olhos azuis, que fala italiano por já ter trabalhado na Europa, vivendo no subúrbio sua vida de aparências e infelicidade enquanto o marido nunca para em casa, sempre atrás de mais trabalho ou um rabo de saia. E, até a terceira temporada, admito, a série foi um porre porque não queria passar disso, com um ou outro ponto significativo relacionado a outros personagens, pois essa é uma de suas maiores riquezas - para além do elogiado modo de conduzi-la e de ser fiel à época -, Matthew Weiner, seu criador, fez personagens singulares, marcantes e sempre insatisfeitos, sedentos.

O FEMINISMO INESPERADO DE MAD MEN: Se eu não estiver enganada, por exemplo, Mad Men começa com Peggy Olson entrando no escritório como a nova secretária de Draper. Ela é um patinho feio e tímido de vinte anos, com muita ambição escondida dentro de si, pois almeja ser redatora. Ganha a confiança de Draper e torna-se pupila dele, orgulhando-se, também, do fato de nunca ter precisado se deitar com o chefe para crescer na carreira. Diferente de Joan, a ruiva que gerencia o escritório, responsável por orientar Peggy. As armas de Joan são visuais e estimulantes, pois ela é bonita e, consciente disso, sabe intimidar. Mas Joan, com anos na empresa, envolve-se com um dos sócios, um homem casado. Quando Peggy consegue o cargo que deseja, é obvio que Joan a parabeniza, ao mesmo tempo em que queria estar no seu lugar. E é importante falar de Mad Men começando por suas mulheres porque a série inicia com essas duas especificamente e termina bem para ambas. No fim de tudo, após tanto machismo e tentativas frustradas de crescimento e respeito num ambiente de trabalho conquistado apenas pelo sexo oposto, Joan propõe a Peggy que ambas sejam sócias na Harris-Olson, produtora que levaria seus sobrenomes. Nesse ponto, Joan dispensa um homem que se oferece para sustentá-la e ela tem um filho pequeno. E Peggy, para quem o céu é o limite, se percebe apaixonada por um colega de trabalho e, finalmente, conquista também o amor que nunca teve, aquele que é correspondido de verdade. Vale lembrar do quanto as duas sofreram durante a série: Joan passou por dois abortos e aceitou a proposta de dormir com um cliente poderoso para salvar o escritório da falência, não sem antes apresentar a condição indiscutível de que seria sócia, o que funcionou muito bem até que a empresa fosse engolida por outra maior, a qual era subordinada, e Joan enxergasse que não seria muito prestativa ali, assim como pouco foi quando sócia da anterior. O ano é 1969 quando essas personagens decidem novos rumos pessoais e profissionais para suas vidas, sutilmente abraçando um feminismo que talvez pouco conheçam. Elas fazem o feminismo acontecer quando se dão conta de que não precisam que homens lhe ajudem a subir os degraus das escadas de reconhecimento. Elas correm sem tropeçar, ávidas por começar.

“AS MULHERES DE DON DRAPER”: E por falar em mulheres, sempre que eu queria pesquisar sobre alguma personagem da série, inevitavelmente chegava em listas estilo “mulheres de Don Draper”, como se os relacionamentos que ele teve apontassem para propriedades e não pessoas. E, nisso, temos diferentes categorias de personalidades. Os claros problemas mentais e sentimentais de Betty, por exemplo, a já citada primeira esposa de Don. O marido perfeito e a esposa perfeita, vivendo na casa perfeita, com os filhos perfeitos - motivo de inveja para a vizinhança. E tudo desmoronando na cabeça dela e da porta para dentro, porque Betty é desconfiada, ela sabe que o marido é um mistério ambulante com segredos por debaixo da pele - tanto para ela, quanto para os outros. Mas dói demais em si, por conta da convivência. O mesmo se reflete em Megan, anos depois, sua segunda esposa, aquela que traz alegria e esperança para os dias dele, mas com uma cabeça muito próxima da anterior e, aliás, quase tão malvada quanto. Betty e Megan são gêmeas e não sabem. Joan chega a comentar com Peggy, quando Draper anuncia que se casará pela segunda vez, agora com uma de suas secretárias, sobre o passado de Betty como modelo: “é esse tipo de mulher que Don escolhe para ser sua esposa”, ela diz, referindo-se ao fato de que Don provavelmente faria de Megan uma redatora, não aceitaria que ela fosse somente secretária. E, no entanto, Megan abandona a publicidade para realizar o sonho de se tornar atriz, alcançando a fama e o glamour de uma profissão artística que Betty não pôde segurar e nem poderia resgatar. Nesse meio tempo, Betty, também casada e dessa vez com um político, sofre atormentando os filhos enquanto Megan torna-se mais ciumenta que ela, um ciúme de requintes cruéis, como se quisesse afastar todas as “mulheres de Draper” da vida de ambos - em muitos casos, com razão, porém cega para o óbvio: no apartamento de cima, por exemplo, Don traía Megan com a vizinha, também casada. Assim, a personagem que era doce e bela torna-se insuportável e megera, devastada e devastadora. Tardiamente, talvez, dando-se conta de que desperdiçou alguns anos de sua vida remendando um casamento fracassado desde o início. E eu nem falei de todas as outras mulheres, significantes ou não, que se relacionaram com Draper. Anna, por exemplo, sua “real primeira esposa”, a esposa do homem que ele matou na guerra e assumiu o nome, mas dela resolveu cuidar. Anna, única que sabe de seu passado por muito tempo, deixa nas mãos de Draper uma sobrinha que precisará de sua ajuda. E talvez a mulher mais misteriosa seja a que é irmã gêmea dele, uma garçonete que surge do nada na última temporada e que Draper “reconhece”, não como alguém que tenha visto antes, mas com identificação. Aquela mulher é ele. Ela foge de um passado que quer esquecer, ela deseja recomeçar, assim como Draper, anos antes, fugindo da guerra, assumindo outro nome, construindo carreira, olhando para o futuro, sempre querendo mais e ser mais, estar no topo.

"CREEPY GLEN” & ADOLESCÊNCIA: Além de Peggy e de como ela se desenvolve em aspectos diversos, minha outra personagem favorita é Sally Draper, a filha mais velha de Don e Betty que, literalmente, cresce junto com a série, amadurece, ganha uma carga dramática significativa e uma história pela qual torcemos por ela mais do que tudo. Sally ganha destaque em Mad Men quando seu avô morre e ela aparece na cozinha, dando sermão nos adultos, chorando porque ninguém chora, acusando-os de não se importarem com a perda por já estarem aos risos na mesa de jantar. Ela devia ter o quê? No máximo uns nove anos, de rosto vermelho e rechonchudo, coberto de lágrimas. Mad Men acertou na escolha de elenco até mesmo das crianças e Weiner criou o melhor roteiro para elas. Com o fim do casamento de seus pais, Sally torna-se uma adolescente cada vez mais afastada da própria mãe, apesar de morarem na mesma casa. Ela sente saudade do pai muito antes dele ir embora, talvez porque adivinhasse que tempos difíceis chegariam ali. Na ruptura emocional e nas dificuldades de relação entre mãe e filha, ressurge Glen Bishop, ex-vizinho dos Draper, o estranho filho da mãe divorciada que abalou o convívio do subúrbio de outrora. Betty era preconceituosa com uma mulher que vivia sem marido e Glen era apaixonado por ela quando não se importava com a existência de Sally. A típica história do garotinho que se encanta por uma mulher mais velha, bonita e instigante. Glen, interpretado pelo filho do criador da série, foi um personagem de raras aparições, mas, sempre que ele surgia, algum desconforto era notado, ele era feito para provocar, com seus olhos “mortos” e atitudes estranhas, o que lhe rendeu a alcunha de “creepy Glen”, entre os fãs.

Os meus melhores momentos de Mad Men são justamente quando Glen aparece: Glen se escondendo na casa da árvore dos Draper depois que Don vai embora, anunciando que veio para resgatar Betty, confessando seu amor infantil, avisando que ambos poderiam fugir juntos porque ele tinha “muito dinheiro”; Betty reencontrando Glen pouco antes disso, no estacionamento de um supermercado e, completamente transtornada, segura uma das mãos do garoto, que dentro do carro espera por sua mãe - tudo que ela quer é contato físico, mesmo que seja de forma esquisita e espontânea; Glen e Sally firmando amizade, encontrando-se às escondidas em um terreno abandonado, trocando cartas, telefonemas, confessando angústias um ao outro, tentando ficar perto; Betty descobrindo esses encontros e anunciando mudança de casa, sem saber que, a partir dali, sua relação com a filha jamais seria a mesma; Glen visitando Sally em Nova York - ela estava na casa do pai e eles decidem ir a um museu - ele está no colegial e, com os telefonemas frequentes, seus amigos acham que Sally é sua namorada e eles não sabem exatamente o que querem ser um do outro para além da amizade; nesse dia, Sally menstrua pela primeira vez e volta correndo para a casa da mãe, deixando Glen sozinho e assustado, forçado a procurar Don e Megan, no que Don o leva de volta para casa, deixando-o dirigir seu carro; Glen visitando Sally outra vez, mas no colégio interno, enraivecido quando o amigo que ele leva avança para cima da garota e ela confusa porque Glen se trancou no quarto com a sua colega. Sempre que Glen volta, aparece diferente e mais bonito: seus olhos mortos dão lugar a um olhar misterioso e sedutor quando, na última temporada, ele é um rapaz de dezoito anos, impressionando Betty e anunciando que vai para a guerra, lutar contra os vietnamitas, para desespero de Sally, que não aceita a situação, a proposta de perder seu melhor amigo para a guerra. É no abrupto fim desse coming of age que começam os inesperados finais de Mad Men.

DESFECHOS TRÁGICOS: Após dispensar Glen da pior forma possível, embora ele esperasse por uma não-aceitação de Sally, a filha de Draper entra em contato com a sua mãe e ambas choram ao telefone. Ela viajará no dia seguinte, sem chance de vê-lo novamente. É Glen quem vai ao encontro de Sally pela manhã e, como ela não está em casa, confessa para Betty que nunca a esqueceu, e ela finalmente faz a coisa certa: recusa-o de maneira formal e direta. Nesse ponto, fiquei na dúvida sobre o caráter de Glen. Não sei se ele se aproximou de Sally apenas para ficar mais perto de Betty ou se o vínculo entre os dois foi verdadeiro. Pouco tempo depois, Sally, ainda tão jovem, veria sua própria vida transformada num inferno com a descoberta do câncer da mãe. Betty é diagnosticada com câncer de pulmão, recebe a notícia de que teria meses de sobrevivência dado o avanço, e decide não lutar. “Vi a minha mãe morrer, não quero que você passe por isso”, é o que ela diz para Sally, ao lhe entregar uma carta breve e lindíssima, sobre a condução do funeral, assim como seu pai fez consigo, pouco antes de morrer. Na carta, Betty assume que, apesar das divergências de antes, entende e aceita que a vida de Sally será sempre uma aventura, de modo que ela conseguirá tudo que quiser. Na mesma temporada, antes desses acontecimentos, Sally fica muito brava com o pai e, antes de pegar o trem para retornar ao colégio interno, confessa que espera se afastar dele e da mãe assim que possível, para não ser como eles. Don a repreende dizendo que, querendo ou não, ela já é como os dois: “você é bonita, mas lhe cabe ser mais do que isso”. O final de Betty é o mais triste da história e acho até que ela não o merecia. Quando Mad Men começa, lá na primeira temporada, Betty passa a fazer terapia para entender seus problemas. Na última, ela decide estudar Psicologia quando, pouco depois, é diagnosticada. Weiner nos poupa da morte de Betty, mas não de seu estado deplorável, entre tosses e sem abandonar os cigarros, sentada na mesa da cozinha, fumando e lendo o jornal, enquanto Sally lava os pratos e observa a mãe indo embora em contagem regressiva. Quando entregou a carta mórbida, Betty disse para Sally que havia sido feliz, mas isso não é verdade. Uma vida de realizações nem sempre significa felicidade. Na maior parte do tempo, Betty foi o oposto e cheia de insegurança.

Como também é inevitável falar sobre, eu acreditava que o final de Sally e, por consequência, de Betty, seria outro. Para mim, é pesado e ainda chocante pensar que Sally perderia a mãe e, em pouco tempo, receberia também a notícia da morte de Glen em solo estrangeiro. Eu esperava que o vínculo mais sanguíneo que afetivo entre mãe e filha fosse rompido de vez, que Sally fugisse com Glen para alguma comunidade hippie, buscando consolo e recomeço nessa união, começando a vida adulta.

O oposto aconteceu: é Draper quem vai para um retiro espiritual numa comunidade enquanto Glen repete o seu passado. O final de Don é o mais estranho, deixando um caminho em aberto para lá de interessante: abandona a empresa, viaja de carro por aí até parar em uma comunidade na qual as pessoas precisam de tão pouco. Numa reunião de grupo, ele chora e abraça um “homem de negócios” perdido e sozinho, como ele. Alguém que é seu desconhecido e semelhante espelho. “Um homem médio daquela época”, conforme assumiu Weiner em entrevista, dizendo até que aquele homem com menos de cinco minutos de cena foi o personagem mais importante de toda a série (!!!). Mad Men finaliza com Draper sorrindo de olhos fechados durante uma oração, seguido de uma icônica propaganda televisiva da Coca-Cola, a primeira, se não me engano, responsável por colocar brancos e negros na mesma peça publicitária, cantando sobre a esperança de um futuro melhor. É cafona? Sim. Mas, para a época, foi revolucionário, ousado. Isso deixa explícito que Don se reconhece como alguém da publicidade e volta ao escritório, talvez mais tranquilo, criando apenas o primeiro dos mais importantes comerciais de sua carreira. Seria um novo passo. E, a título de curiosidade, a Coca-Cola cedeu a exibição dessa propaganda na série, sem saber em que contexto ela ficaria, confiando na produção. A essa altura da ficção, Draper retornaria para a McCann Ericksson, agência que de fato existe e lançou o anúncio em 1971. Após esse final impactante, a McCann, de brincadeira, twittou em agradecimento a Don Draper, dizendo que ele finalmente teve uma boa ideia.

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Sterling, meu canalha predileto, sossega o facho com alguém da sua idade, a mãe de Megan. Campbell, que sempre considerei um invejoso puxa-saco inútil, retoma seu casamento com Trudy, a bonequinha de porcelana, outra esposa-troféu. Um casal feito para a comédia, na verdade. Eu gostaria que Campbell tivesse saído da série no lugar de Salvatore, o italiano homossexual casado com uma mulher que, descoberto, lá pela terceira temporada, perde seu emprego e nunca mais retorna. Achei uma injustiça sem tamanho, era um personagem que tinha muito a ser desenvolvido, diferente de Campbell e sua eterna personalidade duvidosa, mimada e imediatista. Oportunidade não faltou para que ele saísse de cena. Para mim, inesperada também foi a morte de Bert Cooper - ok, ele já estava idoso, mas me confortava aquela eterna expressão de gato angorá e suas atitudes excêntricas como não permitir que entrassem em sua sala de sapatos, regra sempre quebrada por algum sócio enraivecido, fora a sua coleção de arte. É significativo que Cooper tenha ido embora quando o homem chegou na Lua, uma morte tranquila, no sofá de casa, sem muito alarde. Cooper ainda aparece como um fantasma para Draper, seja dentro do carro do sócio ainda vivo ou cantando e dançando no escritório, deixando claro que a sua alma sempre estará ali, pois ele não cogitava aposentar-se.

Por último e não menos importante, eu não poderia deixar de comentar tanto a estética quanto o senso histórico mais fiel possível à época, com seus inúmeros acontecimentos: os assassinatos de Kennedy e Luther King, psicopatas como Charles Manson, a já citada chegada do homem na Lua e a luta dos negros por reconhecimento social e mercado de trabalho, muito bem caracterizada, por exemplo, na personagem Dawn Chambers, a primeira mulher negra contratada no escritório. Antes, negros na série eram, no máximo, babás ou ascensoristas - e eles SEQUER falavam. Levou umas quatro temporadas para cumprimentarem e serem cumprimentados pelos protagonistas brancos nos elevadores. Quando Dawn aparece, ela começa como Peggy - é somente uma secretária e -, quando Joan, como sócia, passa a exercer apenas a função de atendimento, promove Dawn ao seu antigo cargo, de gerente.

Li algumas entrevistas sobre Mad Men e seu final. A série, feita para a emissora AMC, colocou-a no circuito da audiência televisiva. Jon Hamm, o Draper, viajou legal e positivamente quando assumiu que adoraria ver um spin-off sobre Sally sendo uma Joan Jett e namorando Kurt Cobain nos anos 90, algo que atravessasse décadas daquela personagem, exibindo diferentes juventudes e Sally vivenciando todas elas. Honestamente, também adoraria. Mas soube que Weiner está criando uma nova série sobre a família Romanov, provavelmente para competir com The Crown e outras produções de época com diferentes realezas - essa é a nova moda.

Enfim, eu não sei se Mad Men já pode ser considerada a melhor série que já assisti, conforme é unânime entre os que conheço, mas com certeza é inesquecível e seu final vai martelar na minha cabeça ainda por muito tempo. No fim das contas, quem menos me importou foi o protagonista e seus dramas, mas sim a destruição que ele deixou ao redor de si, as pessoas que ele machucou e ajudou, sobretudo mulheres. Anti-herói desde o início, terminei Mad Men torcendo contra Draper. Mas, sem dúvida, é o tipo de produção que recomendo, pelo poder de surpreender e se renovar sem se perder. Parece a vida da gente - ninguém é tão vilão ou tão mocinho o tempo todo e os bons também podem ser sórdidos quando lhes é conveniente. É um mundo analógico que não sabia muito de si, temia o desconhecido e tinha esperança. Um pouco daquilo que herdamos hoje, Mad Men é uma crônica sobre afetos tortos.

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steppedoffaflight · 3 years

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Summer’s a Knife - Christmas Oneshot

If you haven’t already, read Summer’s a Knife here!

While it’s true Van was doing his part to make today worse for you, Christmas Eve is always stressful. There’s the delayed flights home, and dealing with your parents bombarding you with questions while you struggle with jetlag. And then there’s the hour drive in the snow to your aunt’s home, where you’ll interact with all of your aunts and uncles and cousins that you only see once for the entire year, and you’ll have to navigate awkward small talk for hours before making the snowy drive back home, where you’re staying at your parent’s.

Van wants to make a good impression.

Word count: ~8.4k

December 2020

“Van!” You shout from the porch, your freshly-styled hair being ruffled by the cold winter wind whipping around. “You don’t need to be doing that! Ben will be here soon!”

Van acts like he hasn’t heard, the crunch of the snow shovel colliding with the cement echoing around the neighborhood before Van heaves up a shovel of fresh snow, tossing it to the side.

“Van!” You call again, your voice bouncing off of the neighbor’s homes. “Get in the fucking house!”

Van stands up straight, the back of his gloved hand wiping his forehead. The light from the porch illuminates the snow in his hair. “Someone’s gotta do it!” He calls back.

“Okay, but not you! And not right now, when you need to get ready!” You gesture at him. “You’re soaked!”

“I’m already almost done!” Van argues, gesturing to the clean path of sidewalk behind him, even though it’s currently snowing and his work will probably be undone by morning. “Just gimme a min!”

You spin around, retreating into the warmth of the house. You hadn’t realized your mom was in the front room, and your cheeks are pink from a mix of the cold, your frustration, and embarrassment.

“He’s so stubborn!” You sigh to her in exasperation, trying to brush off the snowflakes that had fallen on your hair. Thankfully the awning of the porch had kept most of them away.

“You two are perfect for each other,” Your mom jokes, checking her reflection in the decorative mirror on the wall.

You offer her a joking glare, and she turns to you with a smile.

“He just wants to make a nice first impression,” She says, heading for the coat closet.

“Okay, well I think a great first impression would be him looking presentable to go to the family Christmas party,” You snap, your stress starting to bubble over.

You don’t wait for your mother to defend Van again, retreating back into the bathroom to continue getting ready.

As you sit there touching up your foundation and fixing a few curls that have fallen out of place you simmer over the fact Van was still outside getting pelted with snow. It had all started over a harmless conversation with your mom about how your dad was getting older, and that since Ben was staying over tonight for Christmas morning with the family maybe you two should ask him to shovel the snow tomorrow. But your mom was right; in the name of trying to impress your parents Van had suddenly set his mind on helping, throwing his winter gear on before you’d even realized what was happening. Now your brother was going to be arriving any moment as your ride to the family party, and Van was outside looking like he was at the end of a set.

“We’re leaving!” You dad calls, and you hear the front door opening, your mom trailing behind him. “Van? What the hell are you doing out here?”

“He’s shoveling, honey,” You hear your mom pipe up cheerfully, and you glare at your reflection in the mirror.

“Oh, Van, you don’t have to do that!” You hear your dad call, but can’t hear Van’s response. No doubt something charming.

Then the house goes quiet, your parents setting off ahead of you, your brother, and Van to your aunt’s house.

You’re fussing with your sweater dress, which is itchy and clinging to your body in all the wrong places when you hear the heavy thud of Van’s boots coming back into the house. Your phone vibrates on the sink with a text from Ben: be there in twenty.

The bathroom door opens cautiously to reveal a sopping Van leaving puddles of muddy snow water on the hall floor.

“Can you show me how to use your shower?” He asks, already starting to strip off his coat.

You take a deep breath, channeling all your willpower not to strangle him.

“I know you’re stressed,” Van pleads from the bathroom, where- as always- he’s rushing to finish getting ready.

“You’re the one stressing me out!” You exclaim from the kitchen. “He’s gonna be here any minute!”

“I’m almost ready!” Van cries, and then the roar of the blowdryer drowns him out. You bury your head in your hands.

The fact that Van was included in all of these plans only raised everything to higher stakes; your parents have spent the year bragging about their daughter’s amazing new boyfriend without having really met him besides a handful of Zoom calls to during the pandemic this summer. Now is the first time they’ll be able to form an actual opinion about him, and the pressure of it has made you sick to your stomach for a week. And now he’s got to meet just about every single family member on your mom’s side, and manage to impress them, too.

You’ve had multiple stress fantasies about Van whisking you two away to London, where you opt for a Christmas alone rather than with either of your families. You imagine how much more enjoyable the holidays would be without all of this pressure before you feel guilty imagining how hurt your family would be if they didn’t get this quality time with you. Curse you for being such a good daughter.

You’re trying to focus on your breathing to keep yourself from having a panic attack or dissolving into a fit of tears when your phone vibrates against the kitchen table, startling you.

“Sorry, there was an accident on the highway,” Ben says in lieu of a greeting. “But I’m pulling up right now.”

“Okay, we’ll be out,” You promise, the two of you hanging up quickly. You immediately get up to wait in the front room.

“My brother’s pulling up! C’mon!” You yell in the direction of the hallway, Van emerging right on cue.

You didn’t know how he would pull it off, but he has: The man standing in front of you now is worlds away from the one that just shoveled your parent’s snow. His hair is dried, parted nicely in its usual side part and falling in perfect waves. He’s got a crisp white button up on, not a wrinkle in sight, and the black blazer he just had drycleaned slung over his shoulders. And no Van McCann outfit is complete without the dark jeans and his trusty boots.

“Good?” He asks, giving you a quick spin.

“Wait, turn around again,” You direct him, leaning forward to pick a white fuzzball stuck on his blazer. “Perfect.” You break out into a relieved grin looking up at him.

It feels like ten pounds of stress have melted off your shoulders. Any annoyance that had been bouncing around in your chest immediately dissipates in the name of making this holiday drama-free. Van was ready, he looked incredible, and there was no reason to dwell on the last few stressful hours.

“Thank you for shoveling the snow,” You blurt out. Maybe it had been the most inconvenient timing, but it had made him look like the perfect gentleman in front of your parents.

“I just want them to like me,” Van confesses, leaning down for a quick kiss. “That’s all.”

“Everyone likes you,” You roll your eyes at him before heading back to the kitchen for your purse. When you come back there’s the yellow beam of headlights shining against the front of your house, Ben’s car idling expectantly.

Van’s hand comes to rest on your lower back as you two step outside, you taking a moment to lock the front door. He keeps his hand there the entire walk down the driveway to the car, determined to keep you steady in the slush starting to develop.

“Hi,” You greet your brother breathlessly as you slide into the backseat, Van holding the door open for you. “Excited for the party?”

Ben snorts. It’s a hypothetical question, of course. He felt the same way about the Christmas Eve party as you did. Van’s body slides into the seat next to yours before the door closes with a thud.

“Ben, this is Van, obviously,” You laugh, and Van leans forward through the space between the front seats to shake Ben’s hand.

“You’re dating someone?” Ben jokes, kicking the car into reverse. “Mom and dad never mentioned. Not once, this whole year. Especially not in relation to me still being single.”

Even Van laughs at that. You shuffle around in your seat, trying to get comfortable for the ride. Ben taking care of the drive to your aunt’s meant that you could drink, and you intended to have some wine to wash down the day you’ve had. It feels like it’s already been ten lifetimes since you’d gotten off the plane this morning.

“Now, your mother-” Your Aunt Sallie pauses as she swallows down the bacon-wrapped hors d'oeuvre that had been sitting on the tiny paper plate in one of her shaking hands. “-She said you were bringing home a boy this year!”

“Oh, yeah,” You laugh nervously, glancing around. Van had said he had to use the bathroom and you’d been unable to spot him since. “He’s around here somewhere.”

“Now, what’s he do?” Sallie asks, leaving a dark lipstick stain on the rim of her plastic cup. When she’s done taking a sip of her punch she sets it back on the end table the couch is nestled against. She’s waiting for your answer, not noticing the way her cup knocks a small trinket off of the table and onto the plush carpet. You have no idea what it was or whether it’s broken, so you quickly push it from your mind.

You smile politely. “He’s a songwriter, actually.”

Over the course of your year dating Van you’ve struggled to navigate the ‘what does he do’ question with everyone: coworkers, family, the occupation dropdown menu on internet forms that need information about who you’re living with. Musician sounded strange; Yes, Van could always be found gravitating towards pianos in hotel lobbies or any guitar within sight. But that didn’t fully encompass the way he was performing and writing entire studio albums. And ‘he’s in a band’ could go either way; most people in L.A. were, and figured Van was some unsigned act. On the flip side, people wanted you to rattle off Catfish’s discography to see if they knew any of the songs, and started Googling them immediately. You’ve started to opt for songwriter, a way to honor Van’s favorite talent of yours without making too big of a fuss.

“Oh?” You aunt tilts her head in interest. “Is he an accountant too?”

You chew the inside of your cheek awkwardly. Your Aunt Sallie has never remembered you actually worked in marketing and was nowhere close to being an accountant. “No, I didn’t meet him in the office.”

“Meet who in the office?” Van pipes up in the doorway to the sitting area.

You had been sitting with your body turned toward your aunt, but at Van’s voice your body instinctually turns toward him, your shoulders draining of tension you hadn’t even known you’d been feeling. “You,” You smile up at him.

“Oh, no thanks. You’ll never catch me in an office,” Van grins, approaching you two and immediately extending his hand for a handshake. He’s gotten warm since being in the house, his blazer slung over his left arm. His white button up is a bit too transparent, and your eyes wander over the dark chest hair that’s slightly visible where the top buttons are undone.

Your aunt scrambles to set aside her empty paper plate before reaching a weathered hand out to grasp Van’s.

“I’m Y/N’s Aunt Sallie,” She introduces herself cheerfully. “I’m afraid your name’s slipped my mind, though.”

“I’m Van,” you listen to him repeat for the hundredth time tonight. “And Y/N has told me a lot about you,” He informs her politely. You struggle to hold back a sarcastic snort; what you’ve really done is warn him about her.

“Oh, Van,” Aunt Sallie smacks her lips together in thought as Van unclasps her hand. “That’s a lovely name.”

“It’s after Van Morrison,” Van boasts, his chest puffing out slightly. Your heart swells in endearment like it always does at his pride for his father’s nickname for him. You’ve even been sworn to secrecy about his legal name in front of your family.

Van and Aunt Sallie are just engaging in conversation about Van’s namesake when you hear commotion coming from the other room. Right on cue, your mother pops her head into the living room. “Ham’s done!”

“Finally,” You sigh in relief, smoothing your dress down as you get up from your seat at the couch. You were absolutely starving.

Sallie stands up as well, knocking a small portrait of Aunt Stephanie’s dog off of the end table. Van lets her head for the kitchen first, hanging back for a moment with you.

“Hungry?” He asks, rubbing his palm over your back in a comforting gesture. Your shoulders drop tension again.

“Yeah,” You tell him quietly. “Do you want to hang that up first?”

“Sure,” Van nods. “It’s sweltering in here.”

You take the long way to your aunt’s kitchen, leading Van to the coat closet by the front door before you two meet up with everyone else crammed around the kitchen counters loading up paper plates with Christmas Eve dinner.

You grab two plates that are stuck together, unsticking the bottom one and passing it over to Van. You two work in quiet harmony as you take turns spooning portions of different foods onto your plates, Van occasionally asking questions about ingredients. By the time you two are at the end of the makeshift counter buffet your plate is sagging with the weight of your cut of the ham, the steaming mashed potatoes and gravy, the two different casseroles you’d managed to fit, and some various finger foods you’d carefully piled on top of each other.

The dining table is a handful of seats short from being able to fit everyone, but your parents have graciously reserved two seats across from them that you and Van slide into, your younger cousin musing out loud about where she should sit with her girlfriend. You watch them head for the sitting room you had just left, which is empty now.

“So, Van,” Your mom starts, popping a forkful of ham into her mouth. “I see you’ve met Sallie.”

Van laughs quietly, nodding. “I did, yeah. For a moment.”

Aunt Sallie is quite tame now, but she’s forever been the troublemaker among your mom and her sisters, and gets louder and more obnoxious with each visit to the punchbowl. She also lacks any concept of privacy or personal space, something you experienced last year when she had you cornered in the hall by the bathroom, pestering you to tell her how much you make a year. You cringe to imagine Van experiencing the same scenario.

“No spot for me?” Ben asks behind your seat. Van twists to face him, a drop of gravy resting on the corner of his mouth.

“Oh, wait, babe,” You pause him without a second thought, reaching for your own napkin. “You’ve got something on your face.”

Van blinks at you in confusion, still chewing a bite of his potatoes as you reach forward to quickly wipe the gravy away. When you’re done Van has finished swallowing down his food.

“You can have this seat,” He insists, nodding to his plate. He starts gathering up his plastic silverware in one of his hands.

“Don’t do that,” Ben insists. “I’ll go sit over there.” He nods to a fold up card table looking out of place in Aunt Stephanie’s glossy and expensive home. Your grandma and grandpa are sitting at it alone, looking content to be holding their own conversation.

But Van isn’t convinced, standing up from his seat. Realizing he’s serious, you start to grab your things too, brainstorming where you two could sit now.

“Nah, have it,” Van tells Ben again, stepping away from the table. Ben hesitates but ends up taking the seat, scooting his chair in towards the table as soon as you rise out of your own chair.

“We can go sit with Maggie,” You leave the dining room with it’s glowing chandelier, navigate the polished hardwood and shiny marble of the kitchen, until you’re back in the sitting room you’d just escaped.

Your cousin is sitting on the floor with her girlfriend, their backs against the couch. You and Van take the floor against the loveseat across from them, the electric stone fireplace alive with flickering digital flames.

The rug that the couch and loveseat rest on is incredibly plush and has clearly just been cleaned; it’s pristine white with no stains despite the fact you know your aunt’s dog tends to have accidents on it. You set your glass of red wine down cautiously, but the glass doesn’t seem as stable as you’d like it to be.

“Hey!” Maggie perks up when she notices it’s you and Van that have set up camp with them.

“Hi,” You smile, instantly resting a hand on Van’s shoulder. “This is my boyfriend, Van,” You introduce him, and he offers a kind wave as he’s working his way through one of his bread rolls.

“Hi,” Maggie laughs as Van wipes crumbs off of his shirt. “I’m Y/N’s favorite cousin, Maggie,” She giggles at her joke, although it’s true. “And this is my girlfriend Sophie.”

Van looks pleasantly surprised at the mention of Sophie being Maggie’s girlfriend. “There’s two of ya!” He laughs, his eyes widening at you.

Maggie looks slightly confused, but you laugh, catching his drift. “Gay cousins? Yeah,” You nod.

With your clarification Maggie and Sophie laugh as well. You watch Van’s cheeks turn pink, most likely worried he’d just offended someone. But nobody’s bothered, and the conversation centers around how Maggie and Sophie met at the local university Maggie attends, the one you were planning to attend before you ended up ditching your hometown.

Nobody else comes to eat in the sitting room, and for the first time the entire night conversation flows easily, and you don’t have to count down every excruciating minute. You four keep talking well after your plates are empty, until Van and Sophie have to make a trip to grab drinks for everyone.

“He’s so fucking hilarious,” Maggie remarks as soon as they’ve left the room. “If I was into men I’d totally steal him from you.”

That’s the best seal of approval anyone could hope to get from Maggie, who is perpetually trying to convince anyone within a ten foot radius that being a lesbian is the superior sexuality. You don’t disagree, but falling for Van hadn’t been up to you. You beam at her compliment, and you’re still smiling when they return.

“For you,” Van stands over you, handing you down a freshly refilled glass of wine. He’s got a bottle of beer tucked under his elbow, and Sophie passes another beer to Maggie before cracking open the can of sparkling cider she’d grabbed for herself.

Van inquires about Sophie’s cider, which she graciously crawls forward to offer Van a sip of. Then Maggie and Van try to turn the conversation into how beer is the best alcoholic drink, which you and Sophie debate vehemently. The room is filled with playful debate until everyone is exhausted trying to argue their points.

“Hey,” Maggie starts quietly, before taking a long drag of her beer. “I’ve got a huge blunt in the car if you guys wanna come smoke with us.”

Your jaw drops. “Margaret Fields,” You grin, although you and Van are already standing up to follow her. “This is a family event!”

“All the more reason we need it,” Maggie raises an eyebrow at you. Everyone tries their hardest not to make a commotion at the coat closet as you all throw your jackets and boots on before slipping quietly out of the front door and tiptoeing down the driveway to Maggie’s car.

“Roll down the window a little,” You insist, burrowing into your coat further. Maggie turns the car on just long enough to crack the back window for you and Van.

“Now it’s gonna be freezing in here,” Van complains, poking at you.

“I know, but I don’t want to reek of weed when we go back in!” You whisper loudly, as Van takes the lit blunt from Sophie. “They’ll kill us!”

The only light in the vehicle is coming from the glowing windows of your aunt’s house and the embers of the blunt as Van inhales. You watch him exhale a shadowy cloud of weed, momentarily leaning closer to you so that he can aim it towards the cracked window.

“You’re gonna make me smell like it!” You protest, watching the smoke trail past your face and out of the car. Van snorts as he passes the blunt over to you, his fingers ice cold.

“You’re no fun,” He tuts, but you can’t reply as you’re too busy holding the weed in your lungs for as long as you can. It burns your throat on its way out, and you try your hardest to suppress your coughs.

Time gets a little fuzzy around the edges as the weed is passed around another time (or two, or three, who knows), and you don’t know how long you’ve been missing from the party when you all stumble back inside.

“Van!” Your uncle calls just as Van’s hung is coat up. “You said you played guitar?”

“I do, yeah,” Van nods, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Can you help me with something? Do you know how to restring one?”

“I do,” Van repeats, and your uncle gestures at the large staircase right by the front door.

“I’ve got it up here.”

Van shoots you a glance before he politely follows your uncle up the stairs, disappearing into the second floor.

You pray he makes a quick return as you make a quick stop through the kitchen, filling a new paper plate with some second helpings of whatever looked good.

“Have you seen Will?” Your Aunt Stephanie asks as she comes to get another brownie. They’re the star of the night, courtesy of one of your cousins, and there’s less and less of them each time you pass through the kitchen. You decide to take one while they’re still around, your mouth watering at the chocolate frosting on top.

“Van’s helping him restring his guitar,” You tell her, and she groans.

“I wish he wouldn’t,” She sighs. “He’s been putting off taking it to be restrung for months. We’ve finally had some peace and quiet around here.”

You laugh at that. “I haven’t seen James,” You realize, scanning the floor of the room.

“He’s around,” Stephanie shrugs, “Probably pissing somewhere.”

You giggle a little too loudly at that, and then manage to slip away back to the sitting room where Maggie and Sophie have already taken refuge again.

“Where’s Van?” Maggie asks, now slouched in the couch. Sophie is next to her, still sipping at her cider.

“Uncle Will needs him to restring his guitar,” You inform them. “It only takes him a minute, so hopefully he’ll be back soon.”

“That sucks,” Sophie sighs, before noticing the food you were carrying. “You brought snacks?”

“For me!” You insist, plopping down on the loveseat. “These are strictly for me.”

“No fair!” Sophie gets up from the couch, crossing the space to sit down in the empty space you’d left for Van next to you. “Mags and I supplied the weed, didn’t we?” Without waiting for a response she plucks one of the deviled eggs off of your plate before prancing back to her seat.

You zone out into your high, absentmindedly munching on your food, when you suddenly see movement out of the corner of your eye.

“James!” You exclaim excitedly, and the white miniature poodle that’s laying on the dog bed in the corner of the room perks up at his name.

“Hi, baby!” You baby talk him, hoping to lure him out of his bed. His eyes are open and his ears are twitching slightly, watching the strangers in his living room. But he’s still content to lay in his bed, his chin resting on one of the plush sides of it.

“C’mere!” You coo, patting the couch. Realizing you’re not going to let him rest, James starts to heave himself up.

As soon as he starts to cross the room towards you you decide to slip from the loveseat back onto the floor, ripping a piece of your bread roll as an offering to him. You don’t feel your hip bump your wine glass still resting on the floor until it’s too late, until you don’t feel the glass against you anymore because it has tipped, your red wine sloshing out of it and right onto the fresh white rug.

You gasp, watching the liquid seep into the fabric, looking like a blood stain as it spreads. You’re so frozen in your shock that you don’t even notice James has finally trotted over to you until he steals your entire bread roll from right off of your plate, ignoring the small portion clutched between your forefinger and your thumb. You jerk your head to see him make his way back to his bed, curling up to chow down on his prize.

“Oh my God,” You murmur, looking at Maggie and Sophie with wide eyes. “What do we do?”

You’re greeted with two silent stares, the two of them fixated on the stain.

It shouldn’t be funny, but suddenly it is. The dog has run away with your bread roll. Your red wine is currently soiling Aunt Stephanie’s extremely expensive carpet. And everyone in the room is frozen in a state of shock. There’s nobody around with enough sense to play hostess and grab a napkin or something that could absorb the spill. Without being able to control it laughter bubbles up from your stomach, ringing out through the room as it escapes your mouth. You just stare at the disaster that has unfolded in front of your eyes, laughing about it all.

“Help me!” You manage through your laughter, realizing that someone had to take charge. “I need something to soak this up!”

Maggie and Sophie jump up then, everyone searching desperately for something to mop up the wine. Sophie slips out of the room, only to return with one of the fresh white towels you recognize from the bathroom.

“It’s gonna ruin the towel!” You exclaim quietly, but Sophie still gets down on the floor with you and lays it on top of the wine, applying pressure with the palms of her hands.

“Better a towel than this rug!” She stage whispers, and you’re relieved to see the red soaking through the towel. At least some of it will be lifted from the carpet.

“I can’t fucking believe this,” You whisper, glancing up nervously to make sure nobody is about to enter the room. “I knew it wasn’t a good idea to get high at a family fucking party!”

“Oh, shut up, Y/N,” Maggie rolls her eyes. “Loosen up. We’ve got this covered!”

“It’s a huge red stain!” You hiss, Sophie folding the towel over itself and applying pressure again.

“We’ve almost got three degrees between us,” Maggie gestures to the three of them. “We can get a stain out!”

The absurdity of her sentence sends you into another giggle fit.

“What?” Sophie lifts her head to see what you’re laughing about, but she’s smiling, your laughter spreading to her.

It takes you a moment to catch your breath before you can tell your joke. “How many college graduates does it take to clean up a spill?”

You’re aware somewhere in the back of your mind it’s not even that funny, but the weed says otherwise. Maggie and Sophie find it as funny as you, and when Van comes back into the room you’re all in tears, blubbering about stupid mistakes you’ve all made through the years, how poor of an indicator higher education is when it comes to common sense.

“What the hell is going on?” He asks as he approaches you guys, a smile spreading across his face. You watch it dissolve in one instant when he catches sight of the wine stain that you’re all guarding from view with your bodies.

“We’re in a crisis,” You admit, wiping the tears from your eyes, exhaling another watery giggle.

“This is about as good as it’s gonna get,” Sophie says, pulling the towel up. The stain on the carpet is pink now instead of the vivid red it originally was, but it’s not disguised in the slightest.

“C’mon,” Van reaches a hand out to help you stand up onto wobbly legs. He leads you out into the hall, and you’re slipping in your socks on the hardwood floor.

“What are you doing?” You ask a little too loudly, and Van quickly makes a shushing motion. He turns the corner into the bathroom, tugging you in behind him and locking the door securely.

“We need peroxide,” He tells you, kneeling down to start searching through the cabinet under the sink. “Do you know where she keeps it?”

“No, I don’t know where Aunt Stephanie keeps her peroxide,” You scoff, but start helping him in his search. “I come over exactly once a year.”

You open up the medicine cabinet, your eyes tracing over the various bottles they keep in there. It’s clear this is the guest bathroom; it’s only stocked with generic headache cures, packaged toothbrushes, and some tampons.

“I don’t think they keep any down here,” You tell Van, who has finally given up his search, standing up. “This is just a spare bathroom. I’m sure they have some upstairs.”

Van nods, unlocking the bathroom door before heading out. You’ve resigned to heading back into the living room empty handed, and you’re surprised to see Van turn the opposite direction, towards the staircase he had followed your Uncle Will up.

“We can’t go up there!” You insist. “That’s weird!”

“I left my phone up there,” Van tells you, his blue eyes widening in silent emphasis.

“Right,” You swallow down your apprehension, following him around the corner and up the stairs.

On the second floor the noise of the party has faded away, leaving only the soft noise of you and Van’s footsteps as you navigate towards the master bedroom. You haven’t been up here since you were a little kid, sneaking around with Maggie and your other cousins in your nice Christmas dresses. You still intuitively know the layout, but Van gets to the master bedroom first. He must’ve restrung the guitar in there.

He gives a polite knock before finally twisting the knob and peeking in. He opens the door wider as he steps in, you lagging behind.

Your aunt and uncle have completely redone their bedroom in the fifteen-plus years it’s been since you’ve been in here. Gone is the soft blue carpet that everyone used to pretend was the ocean, leaping from the waterbed to the sofa that had been pressed against the wall near the bed in order to avoid drowning in it. It’s a crisp cream color now, just like everything else in the room. There’s no more art on the walls depicting french bistros during the different seasons, art you’d point at with your cousins and declare which small oil-painted figure everyone was. The space on the wall is now occupied by a family portrait, a framed photo of James peering up at the camera with his tear-stained eyes and trendy decorative mirror.

“Er… Which one is the bathroom?”

Lost in your reminiscing, you hadn’t noticed Van had opened up the first door to his right, which leads to a closet. He offers you a sheepish smile when you laugh.

“Over here,” You point, crossing the room to the open doorway of the bathroom. You step in, flicking the lights on. The bathroom looks the same as it always has; it must be their next renovation project.

Van starts to check under the sink, but you close the door behind you two so that the bathroom closet that was hidden from view is visible now. As soon as you open the creaky wooden door you spot the brown bottle of peroxide, presenting it to Van in triumph.

“Now we’re talking,” Van looks over the label of the bottle carefully before you two return the bathroom to how you’d originally found it, slipping out of the bedroom and back down the stairs, the chatter of the party becoming louder with each step down the staircase.

“Why peroxide?” You ask Van as you two walk at a brisk pace towards the living room where you two had abandoned Maggie and Sophie with your mess. You hope nobody’s walked in and placed the blame on them.

“It helps lift stains,” Van explains. “It’s a color safe bleach.”

“There you are!”

Maggie and Sophie are dutifully still guarding the scene with their bodies.

“Where were you?” Maggie asks.

“We had to go upstairs to get peroxide,” You explain, kneeling down with Van, who has opened the bottle up. “You know those oil paintings Aunt Stephanie used to have upstairs of the cafe?”

“The whole set, yeah,” Maggie nods.

“They’re gone now,” You inform her solemnly. It shouldn’t be a big deal, but it feels strange to know that part of your childhood holiday celebrations no longer exists.

“No!” Maggie cries, placing a hand over her heart for extra drama. “Is nothing from our childhood sacred?”

“Right?” You laugh, comforted that she seemed to be feeling the same emotions you were.

Van has poured peroxide over the stain, the carpet fizzing with the liquid.

“Did you Google this?” You ask him, watching as he tends to the spill carefully.

Van shakes his head. “Been doing this my whole life at the B ‘n B.”

He grabs for the towel Sophie had sopped up some of the wine with, and carefully uses a clean section of it to dab at the peroxide. It’s a terse ten minutes while he continues to perform this ritual, everyone watching him with bated breath.

“There,” He breathes finally, pulling the towel away in satisfaction. The stain wasn’t entirely gone, but it was close to it. There’s a collective relief in the room.

“Now help me,” He nods towards you before getting up and approaching the loveseat. “Maggie and Sophie, you two push the stain under.” You line yourself up across from Van on the other side of the loveseat, helping to lift it when Van leans down. It’s heavy, and you struggle to barely lift the wooden feet off of the floor. There’s some commotion as Maggie and Sophie attempt to do their assigned job, and then the loveseat is lowering back onto the rug.

The stain is successfully hidden underneath the furniture. You grin at Van, a warm feeling of satisfaction spreading over you. Van grins back.

“Crisis averted,” Sophie declares, getting up to grab her cider off of the end table. “Here’s to Van!”

“To Van!” Maggie echoes, clinking her beer with Sophie’s can. Van laughs at their cheer, carefully bundling up the soiled towel and the now-empty bottle of peroxide.

“Help me get rid of this,” He requests of you, gesturing out into the hall.

You two manage to slip the evidence into the trash drawer without drawing any suspicion, and then Van nods to the sliding doors leading to the snow-covered back deck. “I need a smoke.”

“Me too,” You sigh wistfully, following Van to the front door so that he can slip his shoes on.

“Come have one with me,” Van insists, leaning over to pass your shoes to you.

“I can’t,” You tell him quietly, but still put your shoes on. Even if you can’t smoke, you’d like to get some air.

Your grandpa stops you on your way out onto the deck with a quick question about how to do something on his new iPhone, and you show him how to change the settings before you catch up to Van, who’s leaned against the side of the house, staring out into the darkness of the yard.

“I’m jealous,” You pout, the smoke he exhales illuminated by the warm glow coming from the sliding doors.

“Have a smoke!” Van laughs, holding his cigarette out in offering.

“I can’t,” You frown. “I don’t want them to see me!”

Your family still had no idea about the bad habit you’ve picked up, and you intended to keep it that way.

“Here,” Van pushes off from the house, nodding at you to take his place. “I’ll keep watch for us.”

He’s slipped his blazer on to come outside, and he reaches in the pocket for his box of cigarettes, quickly slipping one into the palm of your hand along with his lighter. His fingers are ice cold. You light up quickly before passing them back.

The introvert in you relishes in this quiet moment away from socializing, relaxing into the rhythm of your breathing as you smoke with Van in silence.

Van’s holding his cigarette in his left hand, his right hand safely tucked away in his pocket to warm up. He paces around the snowy deck, leaving footprints everywhere he goes. Every few steps he checks the doors to see if anyone’s coming.

The cold air feels good against your skin. You’ve opted to come out without your coat, enjoying the feeling of the slight wind slipping through the stitches in your dress and cooling your skin. You watch a small gust of wind flip a lock of Van’s hair the wrong way, ruining his part. You smile, endlessly endeared by him.

Van catches you smiling. “What?” He asks, returning it just as warmly.

You’re just opening your mouth to tell him to come closer so you can fix his hair when Van glances at the door, his smile dropping.

“Ben’s coming,” He alerts you, and you have no choice but to drop your cigarette onto the deck, wincing as you stomp out half of a perfectly good cigarette, using the toe of your shoe to delicately bury it in snow.

“Hey,” Ben greets Van when the door slides open, the noise of the party leaking out of the house. “Where’s Y/N?”

“Right here,” You speak up before Van can, emerging from the shadows. “I was just getting some air with Van.”

“Are you guys ready to head out when you’re done?” Ben asks. “I’ve been getting badgered by Aunt Sal for the last hour, I don’t know how much longer you two expect me to stay sober.”

“I’m ready to go,” You look to Van, and he nods in agreement.

“Lemme finish this,” Van tells your brother before inhaling another hit. “And we can get out of here.”

“Oh!” You exclaim suddenly. “Did Rachel and the baby ever get here?”

“Yeah, like a half hour ago,” Ben tells you. “Where have you been?”

Van snorts, but keeps your secret. “I’ve been catching up with Maggie,” You brush him off. “But I wanna see Lily before we go.”

“Hurry it up,” Ben demands, but he heads back in, sliding the door shut behind him.

“So bossy,” You roll your eyes, turning back to Van. You step in close, reaching up to fix the misplaced lock of hair.

“I love you,” You tell him quietly, tilting your head up for a kiss. Van meets you halfway, his mouth tasting of beer and nicotine and weed.

“I don’t smell, do I?” You ask, worried. “I don’t want to ask to hold Lily smelling like I just smoked.”

“You did just smoke,” Van points out. But he leans in and sniffs the top of your head, and then the spot where your shoulder and neck meet. “Smell fine to me, though.”

Van throws his cigarette down, snuffing it out before you two head back in.

You two find your cousin Rachel sitting in the living room reserved for special occasions, surrounded by family discussing motherhood with her. Her husband is sitting next to her, looking overwhelmed with all of the conversation. You try to remember his name. Jamie? Jacob? Joe?

“Hey,” You greet everyone as you enter, and your family turns their attention on you. “I wanted to hold Lily before we leave.”

“Come and get her,” Rachel grins, gingerly lifting the three month old baby in her lap. Lily is bundled in a festive blanket that features small cartoon reindeer leaping about, and she’s chewing on her fingers as she’s passed into your arms.

“She’s so cute,” You gush, watching her small eyes look over your face with curiosity. She has a red bow wound in her thin dark hair, and when she releases her tiny fingers from her mouth some slobber gets in her ponytail.

“Everyone says she looks just like Jack,” Rachel says, and the relatives in the room murmur in agreement. Ah, that’s his name. Jack.

“She does,” You agree, even if you don’t see it. “Van, wanna hold her?”

Van falters for a second, clearly unsure if that’s alright with Rachel. But when she doesn’t protest he nods, pushing up the sleeves of his blazer before he takes Lily into his arms.

“He’s a natural with babies,” You tell Rachel. “Everytime I hold them they cry, and then I hand them over to Van and they just stop. Every time.”

Rachel laughs, and you watch Van gaze down lovingly at Lily, your heart glowing. After he’s rocked her for a moment he laughs softly, starting to hand her back. “She’s about to cry.”

You see what he means when Rachel has her back in her arms; Lily’s face is starting to turn an angry shade of red, her nose scrunching in discomfort.

“I’ll go warm up a bottle,” Jack immediately springs into action.

“Alright, well, we’re gonna head out,” You announce awkwardly while there’s a gap in conversation. “Bye, everyone!”

Of course your family won’t let it be that easy, and you’re soon engulfed in hugs from whoever’s in the room. You watch Van out of the corner of your eye, shaking hands with your uncles and hugging your aunts.

After your goodbyes you find Ben chatting with your mom and dad in the kitchen.

“The happiest I’ve ever seen her,” You hear your mom say before you’ve entered the room. “Did you see her wipe his mouth? She’s a woman possessed,” She laughs.

Everyone is still chuckling when you turn the corner. “Ben,” You singsong. “We’re ready!”

“We’ll be following shortly,” Your dad waves you three off. “See you at home!”

The drive home takes twice the time that arriving did. It had continued to snow throughout the entire duration of the party, leaving the highways slushy and slippery, drivers inching along cautiously.

The wine, weed, and your flight that morning means that you can’t stay awake during the drive, your body heavy with exhaustion. You lean your forehead against the cold glass of the window and close your eyes, drifting off peacefully.

You’re woken by Van’s hand on your shoulder, shaking you gently.

“We’re home,” He murmurs, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Let’s get inside and head to bed.”

You practically trip over your own feet up the driveway and into the house, still half asleep. Ben yawns his goodnight as he sheds his damp jacket and shoes by the front door before heading into the spare bedroom. It’s less of a bedroom and more of your parent’s closet since you’ve both moved out, but they’ve kept your childhood bed in there for your occasional visits. Van guides you down the hall to the office, where you two would be sleeping.

The office is cold when you step inside, due to the french doors that lead to the backyard letting a draft in. Your mom’s been working from home since pandemic caused everyone into lockdown during the spring and summer, and her work area is piled with papers and binders. Various little lights on her computer flash, and the paperwork chaos spreads across the top of her bookshelf that houses all of her professional reference material, and the drawers to her filing cabinet are open and overflowing. The couch that you and Van are supposed to share has plenty of folded blankets resting on it, meant to help you two sleep despite the chill that’s lingered in here every cold season your entire life.

The cold is almost worth it with the view through the french doors. You hover on the other side of them, admiring the fresh blanket of untouched snow covering your yard, and the front row view of tonight’s blizzard. You yawn, your breath fogging up the glass in front of your face.

“What do you say we just, fuck the couch,” Van insists, gesturing to the blankets atop it, “And we just make a big bed on the floor?”

That’d probably be a lot warmer. And a lot more comfortable, considering you’ve grown used to sleeping beside Van, and to fit on the couch you two would have to rest your head on opposite sides.

“Yeah,” You agree sleepily, rubbing your eyes.

“Go get ready for bed,” Van tells you. “I’ll get this ready.”

As sleepy as you are, once you’ve washed your makeup off your energy levels perk up. It feels good when your skin can breathe again, even if your dark circles are back on display.

As soon as you’re back in the office you strip off your clothing, rummaging through your suitcase topless for your Las Vegas shirt.

Once you’ve slipped your shirt over your head you notice Van’s handiwork; he’s used the couch cushions to elevate your pillows, and created a carefully layered mattress of blankets. You crawl towards it, happily sliding underneath the top two layers.

“Hey!” Van protests from where he’s tucking his button up and blazer back into their garment bag. “That was supposed to be my side!”

“Shut up,” You scoff, but roll over in a show of generosity. While you wait for Van to climb underneath the blankets with you, you mentally replay tonight in your mind.

This is the most fun you’ve had at a family gathering in years. Since the days of leaping off of your aunt and uncle’s waterbed, really. Instead of stilted small talk and constant glances at your phone your night was filled with laughter, scheming with your cousin, and the pride of watching Van woo everyone in your family. You don’t think he could’ve been more of a gentleman if he’d tried. And you know he had tried, and hard. But you’ve met plenty of people like yourself, who are still anxious and clumsy and don’t get things right even when you put your best effort forward. You think of what you’d overheard your mom saying: A woman possessed.

Was it that obvious? Was the joy and love that Van brought into your life so clearly on display for everyone? Could he tell? Could he see how appreciative you were for the adventure that always followed him, and therefore you, wherever he went?

You hope he’s here for next year’s party. And the next. And the next. There’s nobody else who could embolden you to the point where you felt comfortable enough to sneak out to smoke weed in front of all your uppity family; Nobody who could keep your weed-clogged brain clear enough to fix the mess you’ve made without you spiraling into a crazy bout of paranoia. Nobody else you could trust to keep watch while you smoke a cigarette. Nobody else who made you feel so at peace with your childhood falling away, because what’s left in its wake was even better.

“I love you,” You murmur as soon as you feel his body slide next to yours. You blink at his tired face. “You were so good with everyone.”

The lines at the outer corners of Van’s eyes crinkle as he smiles. “I fucking hope so. I was busting my ass trying to get it right.”

“And you did perfect,” You assure him, cupping his cheek. “I love you so much.”

“Aw, Christ,” Van tuts. “I love you, too. Now go to bed, you’re going soft on me.”

“No, wait,” You urge him, but you can tell your voice is slurring. You’re right on the precipice of falling into a deep sleep. “Thank you for saving my ass.”

“You’re welcome,” Van laughs.

“And merry Christmas,” You continue, patting his hair. “I was gonna blow you tonight as a reward, but it’ll have to wait.”

“It’s the thought that counts,” Van jokes. “Now go to sleep.”

You ignore his instructions. “Did you hear my mom in the kitchen? Saying I was a woman possessed?”

“Did she? No, I didn’t hear.” You can hear the amusement in Van’s voice, but your eyes have slipped closed. “That’s funny. I tend to feel like the puppy following you around.”

“I had so much fun tonight.” You feel yourself smile as the room around you starts to feel warm and hazy, Van’s body radiating a comforting warmth.

“I did too,” Van whispers, leaning forward to plant a quick kiss on your slack lips. “Merry Christmas. I love you. Night.”

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