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#yes i am still grieving dan's death
pix3lplays · 9 months
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so uhmm im really love the hsr being fathers like damn i love it so much so uhm can the readers child like cuaght the hsr griefing over our death and the child comforts them? can it be the same guys from before? *virtual hug* tysm
*Virtual hug back* yes, let’s do it!!!
More Hsr men being fathers hehe
Part of this!
-Honkai Star Rail men grieving reader when their child comforts them-
Dan Heng: Dan Heng is going through your records in the archives, his child in his lap, sleeping peacefully, at first. It is late at night. Dan Heng can’t help it, rereading your files, on the fifth anniversary of your death…it brings tears to his eyes. He accidentally wakes up his kid, who looks up at him with those big eyes that look just like yours.
“Dad? Are you okay?”
“I’m…I’m fine,” Dan Heng reassures his child, stroking their hair a bit while he tries to stifle his tears.
“You’re crying though…”
“No, no, I’m not,” he insists, wiping his tears away and giving a warm smile to his kid. “It’s late. It’s time for bed…”
His kid yawns, protests just a little bit, before promptly falling asleep in his lap again. And he scoops them up and takes them to bed, thinking of what it’d be like to do this parenting thing with you by his side, and not alone. But it’s okay. You’re gone, he needs to accept that. He’s doing this for you, and for his kid.
Welt Yang: is looking through an old sketchbook he had started with you, looking back at your cute, amateurish doodles next to his, that you would draw when he wasn’t looking. And they had always made his day to see you’ve broken into his sketchbook to add a few additions of your own.
“You look sad, Dad,” he hears the little voice of his child, looks up. He hadn’t heard them walk in front of him. “Why are you sad?”
“Not sad, just…nostalgic,” Welt corrects. Okay. Maybe he was a little sad, and missing you. But he’d still use the word ‘nostalgic’ over sad.
“Come look with me,” is what he says, and he sits his little kid on the cushion next to him and holds out the sketchbook.
They go through the sketchbook, and the word ‘sad’ seems to grow a little bigger for him. Yeah. He was sad. He missed you so much. Missed your doodles in his sketchbooks. Wished you were here to help him raise your child. But you weren’t. And that was OK. That happens.
And to be honest, sharing your sketches with your kid was beginning to make him feel a little more relaxed.
Jing Yuan: is stressed out in his office. He’s swamped with work but all that’s on his brain is the anniversary of your death. He thought pushing through and going to work would help him get through it. Thought that it’d be better to be productive than cooped up in the house and mourning. Well, he was wrong for the first time in a while. He always did make bad judgements when it came to you…you always did distract him.
He’s pulled from his thoughts by the sound of tiny footsteps running his way. And he’s met with his kid, excitedly holding a drawing they’ve done.
The kid suddenly screeches to a halt, and Jing Yuan observed them with confusion for a second.
“Dad!? Are you crying?”
“Hm? Oh…I suppose I am…” and he wipes away his own tears, apologizing.
“What are you crying about?”
“I miss someone…”
“Who?”
“Someone dear to both of us…but let’s not worry about that, let me see that drawing of yours…”
And the issue is immediately forgotten by the child, who excitedly shows their dad their most recent creation. It’s good for him, he thinks, to have such young and precious life around him. Helps him keep his mind off the pain of losing you.
Sampo Koski: Didn’t really have a lot of time to grieve you. He was suddenly thrust into parenthood as soon as you were dead, after all…But business was slow today, and he could get home early, and spend some time thinking about his dead lover and the child you left behind for him to deal with.
He’s in the kitchen, pouring himself a drink, when his kid comes home from playing with the neighborhood kids all day. The life of a kid, even in a place like the Underworld, was just too easy, he thinks to himself bitterly, sipping at his drink.
“Dad…you…okay?” his kid asks quietly.
“Yeah…yeah just thinking.”
“You need anything?”
Was his kid always this considerate? They reminded him of you.
“No. Thank you…”
His kid smiles, gives him a thumbs up, and runs to their room. And oddly enough, Sampo feels a little better.
Gepard Landau: Gepard is looking through an old photo album he made with you, before you…passed. He’s crying. He doesn’t realize he’s crying while he looks at a photo of the two of you on your wedding day.
“Dad?” he hears. And he looks away from the photo album suddenly, and down at where his kid is.
“Yes?” he tries, trying his best to sound calm and quiet and in control, and not like he was just crying.
“Want to…play with me? It might make you feel better?” his kid suggests, holding out a stuffed animal.
“Oh, kiddo, I-” but the more he thinks about it, the better the idea sounds. “Alright. Let’s do that. It sounds fun.” He let’s his kid drag him to the floor so they can play with stuffed animals, and the pain of using you fades just a bit for the moment.
Luocha: Luocha is working. Working restlessly. He’s always working. But tonight he misses you, misses you a little more than usual tonight. He grips his necklace tight. Keeps working. When there’s a sudden knock at his door. “Father?” a little voice calls.
Luocha sighs, doesn’t realize how shaky his voice is til he replies. “Come in.”
His kid steps in, looks surprised, because their father was clearly crying and Father Never cried.
“What do you want?” Luocha asks, wiping at his eyes. His kid comes over, puts their little hands on his knee.
“Please stop crying Father…”
“I know, I’m trying…”
“It’s my bedtime.”
“Ah, so it is…want me to tuck you in?”
“Yeah…”
“Alright, fine.”
Luocha doesn’t usually tuck his kid into bed. But tonight he needed the distraction. He takes his kid to their room, tucks them into bed. The tears have stopped. He feels a little at peace, acting like a normal father, tucking his kid into bed.
You’re still on his mind of course, but at least he’s not crying over you anymore. Tears were pointless anyways, they didn’t help anything. It’s not like you were gone forever anyways. He was going to bring you back.
Blade: it’s been some time since your passing, and Blade has been resisting the need to grieve way too hard. It was unhealthy. Finally Kafka strictly told him he’d better go to your grave and get anything remaining out. And he reluctantly agreed, not aware his kid was following behind him…
He just…waits quietly at your grave, watching over it like a silent protector when he suddenly feels a tug at his pant leg. And when he looks down…lo and behold his child had followed him to the grave.
“What are you doing, Dad?” the child asks with big, innocent eyes.
“I’m…visiting…” is what he manages to say, before gesturing to your gravestone.
“Oh…” the kid says, not really understanding, but knowing that this is a quiet and serious moment. “Okay…”
And father and child keep watch quietly together over your grave, and it actually makes Blade feel a little bit better to be doing this with his kid. It’s just a Little bit more bearable.
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kissofchita · 2 years
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I still love Next to Normal it has such a special place in my heart. I do think that it majorly influenced my obsession with bittersweet endings in musical theatre when I started getting more into theatre. However the older I get and the more self-aware I am about my own mental health it doesn't have a bittersweet ending its a happy one.
All of the characters were afraid to move forward to break ties with what they knew. Diana knew from the beginning that her marriage was impeding her mental health her inability to break free of Dan was rooted in the immense fear of the unknown. When you are "crazy" as she describes herself you have little options and become dependent on the people around you. Diana couldn't drive, she wasn't working which means no insurance, and her episodes made it difficult for her to live independently. I think that's something very overlooked when it comes to people with health issues be it mental or physical. And maybe she can't function on her own but taking that step to move forward is a step toward being independent and finding herself as an individual again. She also can't grieve because Gabe is very much alive to her, you can't grieve someone who isn't dead. Dan's own refusal to move on also keeps him alive for her because Dan pretends he doesn't exist at all. She can't grieve because of Dan and she can't move on. So she has to seperate herself so she can acknowledge his death. I know for myself living without a way to get myself to appointments, pay for therapy or medication is absolutely panic inducing. So I don't blame her for not leaving and I don't blame her for clinging onto Dan as companionship. Her leaving him is a happy ending because she can move forward.
For Dan he's never acknowledged his grief at all and pushes his method of coping onto Diana. It's not easier to pretend but it hurts less to ignore the death of Gabe. I do think he loves Diana but he also hates her in the sense that her mental health issues conflict with his coping mechanisms. He does gaslight Diana after her ECT because he wants to force his method of coping on her. This method makes her think she's even crazier because she knows something's missing and he keeps telling her there isn't. Him acknowledging Gabe is a happy ending because he can also begin to heal without trying to support Diana. Yes it hurts and it's not clean but there's light at the end of the tunnel unlike the circles he's been going in. I do think Dan leaves the musical with the least amount of awareness of why Diana had to move on because he does love her. But he also resents her and he can't reconcile the two. I think leave Dan with questions is bittersweet in a way but the audience can see the bigger picture where Dan can't. We can see the perspectives of Gabe, Natalie and Diana where he can't at least not right now. For us we can see a happy ending for him where he can't.
Natalie is a different story because her frustration is rooted in that neither of her parents can move on so she can't either. Because neither of her parents can grieve her pain is dragged out but not acknowledged. She us also ruled by fear like Diana of who she could become. She's also afraid of the unknown so she hurts herself to prevent that. However, she becomes a self-fullfilling prophecy where her pain becomes more and more visible. Her being able to acknowledge that she can't know what will happen but she can let go of that fear at least for a little bit at the dance gives her some freedom. When her parents finally move forward she isn't trapped by the ghost of Gabe and can be her own person. She also is finally able to be open with her resentment and love for her parents even if it conflicts. She has a right to be angry at Diana and Dan every while she loves them. I think her embracing that allows her to face her reality better and her future to have an element of the unknown. Her being able to reconcile her past and wants for the future is a happy ending.
Light is undoubtedly, at least to me, a happy song and it makes my heart swell everytime I hear it. It allows the audience to leave the characters but also keeps them. Your hopes for the characters are simultaneously able to stay with you but be let go as you move forward too. It's happy to me and it always has been I just was stuck with the characters too until I could move on with them. Anyways I love Next to Normal and I think it's super cool that March First is my birthday and the night of the dance. I still stand by my general rule for theatre if someone doesn't die its not a good musical.
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About Seo Dan-Ah
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So I’ve been thinking of our powerful CEO, Seo Dan-Ah and why she is the person she is. If you were here when I was obsessed with More than Friends (another drama from JTBC) a couple of months ago, you’d know I tend to find the reason behind a character’s personality and their various decisions in their lives.
I’m sure many of us grew to like her as a character because of her agressiveness in chasing something and how confident she appears to be. And of course her various interactions with Mi Joo and Young Hwa which have been truly chaotic.
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But I’m also sure that some of us, if not all, find her lack of empathy in other people to be a major red flag. We were shown how her background somehow shaped her to be person she is, and how difficult it has been for Dan-Ah to be successful in her career and maintain the success of her agency especially in a corporate world filled with senior people who do not value women in positions of power (interestingly enough, the people in positions of power in her agency who have appeared so far are only her and the director who is also Young Hwa’s friend’s mother).
And I have to applaud Dan-Ah for developing the skills required to stay in the game. Even I as a young male in my late 20s find the senior people who are mostly in their 50s difficult to deal with because of their old-school style of leadership and overall view of the society.
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But developing such skills at such a young age did come at an expense - her garbage empathic skills. So why exactly did she have to struggle so much when she could have an easy life being the daughter of Seomyung Group? I believe the answer is scattered in several scenes, especially in those scenes where her father was present.
You see how Dan-Ah who looks down on other people is not as rude to her father. She might have expressed her frustration from time to time, but not in the way she does with other people, and especially not like how she treats her half brother (the obnoxious one, not the lonely Tae Woong). Why? Recall the scene when the family gathered for her mother’s death memorial. It’s obvious how Dan-Ah is still grieving about her mother’s passing, and how much she resents her father for marrying someone else; not just another time, but twice after her mother’s passing.
It’s no surprise if she has been channeling her grief and resentment to her step-mothers and her half-siblings instead, making her view them as outsiders who came into her life to take away her father too, after her mother was taken away by death. And it infuriates her more when her half-brother’s birth certificate was fabricated to make him older than she is, effectively taking away what’s rightfully hers - her position as the heiress of Seomyung Group.
Not only that, her half-brother tattled on her about her playing soccer which made her father took away her dream of playing soccer professionally too. Why? They argued that it was bad for her because of her heart condition, and that they cared for her as a family. Do I think they truly cared for her? I cannot say for certain about her half-brother (he probably does care a little, but in an awkward half-sibling way) but I am pretty certain her father does care for her, although he struggles to demonstrate it, being busy heading Seomyung Group and all.
And of course Dan-Ah obeyed her father. Because there was simply no arguing about her heart condition. She still griefs about it, but there is nothing she could do about it. Because even her own heart took away her dream from her. So all her life, she’s had to deal with having her people, her position, and her dream taken away from her.
Does this make her weak? No. Because she simply cannot be seen as weak. Because being seen as weak would further justify why she cannot inherit Seomyung Group. Because she’s afraid that being seen as weak would make more things that she cherishes to be taken away from her.
And so she has been determined to demonstrate to her father and the world that she is the right person to inherit Seomyung Group. She’s determined to hide away her weakness and make only her capabilities shine in the corporate world. She has been determined to never let other people see her as someone they can take something away from by trampling on her. But in doing so, she became someone who tramples on other people and their feelings. She became someone who does not believe in second chances, making full use of someone as long as they are useful to her, and discarding them as soon as they no longer serve her purpose.
But what it really means to me is Dan-Ah has been putting on a big parade to hide away her weakness and her anxiety about having things that she cherishes being taken away from her. And in hiding her anxiety away, it means that Dan-Ah had to force herself into liking what she’s doing.
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Throughout the story so far, Dan-Ah discovered that she feels disturbed by a painting. A painting by a mere college student that is disturbingly dark, as if the painting is hiding a wounded persona within it. She is disturbed enough that she actually commissioned Young Hwa to produce a painting for her.
Yes, her initial intention was to replace her half brother’s choice of painting from the family’s gallery, but as her plan was foiled by Young Hwa who did not hand over the painting in time, she asked her right-hand man to find any painter with similar art style to replace Young Hwa, because she was captivated by that disturbingly dark painting by Young Hwa.
But let’s not forget that Dan-Ah is confused why Young Hwa did not grab onto the opportunity she had specially given him to launch his career onto a fast track. Instead, he put priority onto ‘petty’ things such as his assignment, when earning a living as an artist is difficult and she’s given him a ticket for express train towards a successful career by offering to display his painting at her family’s gallery.
Young Hwa’s choice not to rush and give her the painting but makes her wait endlessly for it makes her furious because not only she likes his painting, but she also realises that she likes him and cannot shake him off her thoughts. And pursuing a romantic relationship with Young Hwa would put all of her effort towards proving she is the rightful heiress of Seomyung Group to a waste. And so, she needed him to become a somewhat successful artist so even dating him would not tarnish her image as a strong, capable person who can claim the throne of Seomyung Group.
But more importantly, because she cannot stand it when Young Hwa is not desperate to grab onto what she thinks is rightfully his - acknowledgement of his skills as an artist. To her, Young Hwa deserves much more than being a peasant and she hates it that he does not seem to be desperate about changing his situation, when she is desperate and anxious about her own.
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renaroo · 4 years
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That Time Ted Kord and Barbara Gordon Invented Sexting in the DCU
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[Birds of Prey (1999-2009) #25]
There’s a lot of things I would like to end the decade on, and I’ve got a Cassandra Cain post I want to get up, but I am called to talk about one of the most important, most obscure parts of the DC Universe that happened 20 years ago. Also I’m shameless and encouraged by @secretlystephaniebrown​ and @shobogan​ so here we go.
DC, and most comics really, have this bad habit of minimizing or erasing past relationships of characters in order to “simplify” romantic narratives with an endgame pair. 
In some ways, I suppose I get it. There is a certain joy I can take from the notions of pure love and meant to be, and with these two characters in particular -- Ted Kord (Blue Beetle II) and Barbara Gordon (Batgirl I/Oracle) -- I have very passionate feelings toward other pairings with them.
But my god. What is lost in the world and in your perspective on both of these characters if you do not know their history together. No, seriously! It’s great!
Ted and Babs are both well established nerds in the DCU even before the 90s. On every team Ted’s a part of he is one-half prankster and one-half tech support, to his continued chagrin. And Babs’ technical skills and eidetic memory are among her most famous traits, even when she was the Batgirl of the Bronze Age. 
By the 90s both of them had also been through a lot -- Ted had gained and lost a dozen teams it felt like by that point, Barbara had survived her attack by the Joker but had only begun to establish herself more widely in the superhero community as Oracle, and the Birds of Prey were literally just starting out. 
Babs had Dinah, but was still not revealing her identity to Dinah, she needed a friend. And, online in a techie forum, she made one:
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[Birds of Prey (1999-2009) #2] 
This friendship blossoms for a while as purely digital space across quite a few issues -- a lot of good issues of the early Chuck Dixon run which is an under-read treat these days, I feel. It still has its... Dixon on it, but the characters are great and this relationship is just one example of them.
Ted helps Babs out quite a bit and finally, they’re ready to meet in person.
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[Birds of Prey (1999-2009) #15]
They’re honestly adorable, and pretty much instantly know each other’s identities. For one, Babs knows all the identities on the Justice League roster. For two, Ted can put together pretty quickly what tech-related superhero would have access to that kind of information.
For three, they went to a meet up in color coordination with their hero identities. Which of course is protocol in comics but still.
Point stands.
Ted stays in the picture for a long time after this, he’s a good friend and confidante to Babs and they’re genuinely interested in each other’s company. Platonically or romantically? It doesn’t seem to really matter until it’s finally the end of a long and tough arc, and Ted is forced back into wearing his Beetle suit again.
And they have a serious conversation about their relationship that ends like most interactions with Ted do: a good laugh.
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[Birds of Prey (1999-2009) #25]
Ted and Babs actually relied on each other a lot as friends after that. Ted was Beetle on and off again, but Babs could tell that something was up and was firm in pushing Ted to go to a doctor to get himself looked at. 
If she hadn’t, Ted could’ve gone without treatment for a severe heart condition that had already cost him 3 heart attacks without him realizing it. 
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[Birds of Prey (1999-2009) #40]
And, the first person he tells, is Babs.
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[Birds of Prey (1999-2009) #41]
Unfortunately, about this time is where comics get. Weird and difficult because as writers move books or even just as storylines naturally shift for bigger parts of the stories, things get dropped unless it’s picked up elsewhere. 
A few comics like Formerly Known as the Justice League (2003-2004) would call back to their relationship and it would be in the pseudoromantic and fun banter that had had for the 90s and early 2000s, but it never picked up as a focus again. 
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[Formerly Known as. Justice League (2003-2004) #5]
By 2006, Ted was dead, murdered by Max Lord after he got on the right trail for what was happening with Checkmate and the OMAC Project that Bruce had on the back burner. And he was alone, after almost all of the superhero community ignored or downplayed the importance of what he was finding (except for Booster). 
Unfortunately, that included Barbara.
She’s not outright dismissive and she’s not cruel or condescending to him in the ways other heroes are at the final hour, but her attention is elsewhere. They grew apart from where they were, Ted’s reputation was at an all time low to other heroes while Babs’ and the Birds of Prey were at their height. 
So she gave him the final clues that would lead to the discovery of OMAC. And would send Ted to his death. 
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[Countdown to Infinite Crisis (2005) #1]
One thing I do appreciate, though, is that unlike a lot of comic character deaths, Ted’s did actually have impact, and it had it for years. Especially for those closest to him.
I could (and probably should) do an entire history lesson on Booster Gold and the impact their relationship has had over the years, but we’ll stick with Babs here, because Babs was allowed to grieve and honor her friend, too.
Something that wouldn’t happen in the future with other characters important to Babs’ life.
Ted was special, though, and Birds of Prey knew that and had an issue that spent a lot of very good time honoring that and his history with Babs and the rest of the team.
Which is where we get our confirmation that Babs and Ted were Cyber-Doing it before it was ever popular in one of my favorite exchanges of all time
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[Birds of Prey (1999-2006) #96]
Now, am I going to wax poetically about the tragedy of Babs and Ted’s forgotten fling to force the diehards into multishipping admittance with my undeniable canon fact?
Yes.
I mean no! Not really -- I’m a diehard Boostle shipper who doesn’t budge for much and my shipping opinions for Babs are pretty firm as well. 
What I’m attempting to get at here is that they have a good history, that their characters and understanding their relationships with others, make them more interesting and complex characters with fun and joy to be explored in multiple angles, even when you have your penned, perfect ending for them.
And I think erasing that in favor of perpetuating this idea that people come out of the womb with this set romantic path that any deterrence there from has to be either meaningless or actively horrible is at best less fun you can be having in these expansive universes, and at worst actively hurtful to people’s world views and expectations. 
But also. 
Babs and Ted were actively sexting in 1999 and that is an important - neigh, historically significant -- event in the wider DCU so. 
Booster Gold has to have a storyline someday where he has to save this moment from never happening. And I will co-write it with you, Dan Jurgens, please. 
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dvp95 · 4 years
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is that as good as it gets?
pairing: dan howell/phil lester
rating: teen & up
warnings: none
tags: memory loss, amnesia, fluff, introspection, established relationship, some gender-y discussion
word count: 9,101
sequel to still the best, more or less (which you can read on ao3 or here on tumblr) and so easy to come back into you (on ao3 and tumblr) and written for the lovely @intoapuddle​ <33333 happy belated birthday pal!
read on ao3 or here!
Phil loves his parents. He always has, even in the worst of the puberty-fuelled rebellion. Well, alright, 'rebellion'. There were a lot of long nights spent with a book and torch or his GameBoy under the covers, heart pounding in his ears as he listened for any sign of his parents coming to check on him, but he doesn't think that counts.
Even when things were at their hardest, he still loved his parents. He loved them when his dad kept asking after girls with absolutely no inclination that there were other things he could be asking in order to know his son better. He loved them when his mum pulled him aside and said his new hairstyle made him look 'a little girly, love'. He loved them when he was grieving for a friend and they didn't know what to say, how to help.
Right now, he loves them. Beneath the fear and the guilt and the anxiety and the frustration that's been his whole weekend, there is a solid bedrock of love and trust that will never crack.
"They keep treating me like I'm twenty," Phil complains, quiet because he isn't sure how thin the walls are in this new house.
"You kind of are. Like, in a way."
Dan's voice is so comforting, even with the swirling mix of emotions that Phil is dealing with right now. It helps to ground him, that soft, posh, sleepy voice.
"Yeah," Phil says. He rolls over, stretches out, because even a double bed feels too big without a second set of too-long limbs. "But it's like, they're not even acting like I'm an adult. Mum's been asking how I'm feeling every twenty minutes and dad called me 'kiddo' at dinner."
"They're doing their best," says Dan. He's five hundred kilometers away, on a different island entirely, but if Phil closes his eyes he can pretend they're just murmuring across the distance between their pillows.
"I know they're doing their best, babe," Phil sighs. "It's just that this was so easy for you."
Dan laughs. He doesn't have to be quiet the same way Phil does, nobody trying to sleep on the other side of his headboard, but he matches Phil's volume anyway.
"I'm sorry," says Dan. "Did you just say this has been easy for me? I'll have to refer you to my therapist."
Somehow, Phil smiles. He doesn't feel like smiling at all, so exhausted by the role he's been playing with his family, but Dan always seems to have that effect on him. "I mean, you just treated me like a regular person right out the gate. They're acting like I'm gonna break."
"Maybe you will. I've seen how you stumble on those cliffs."
Phil chuckles, low, and then sighs into the phone. He's getting more comfortable with having the flat rectangle between his ear and shoulder. "I miss you."
"Mm," Dan hums. It sounds like he's smiling. Phil has never wanted to be somewhere so desperately. "Miss you, stupid."
"Are we always this bad when one of us is away?" Phil asks. He wishes he was talking on an old landline, wants to twirl the cord through his fingers while he and Dan whisper to each other. It's better than what his fingers are doing now, which is reaching out on reflex for a warm, citrus-and-mint body that isn't there.
"Yeah," Dan says with unabashed simplicity.
"I'm glad," says Phil. He feels a slight itch under his skin, unsettling him, but he fights it down by repeating, "I'm really glad. Like... I'm glad I'll still feel this way about you ten years from now."
"You're such a sap," Dan says, fondness seeping out of every word. "Normally you just call me a rat and ask if I'm eating."
"Are you eating, rat?"
The loud bark of laughter down the line makes Phil's toes curl with happiness. He loves that sound, loves making Dan laugh in such an unrestrained way. "Yes, Phil, I'm eating. Probably not as good as you are, I'm sure mum's got you eating like a king."
It's still so strange to hear someone else call Phil's parents 'mum' and 'dad' - someone who isn't Martyn, obviously. From everything that Phil has learned about Dan over the past two and a half months and every tiny detail he's remembered, Phil is certain that the titles were something his parents insisted on. He doubts Dan would have just started saying them on his own, even with all the social grace he sometimes lacks.
That makes him feel warm, too. He's never exactly thought his parents would hate him for who he is, but. He hasn't been a hundred percent sure.
Phil doesn't think that anybody is a hundred percent sure that their parents will love them the exact same way if they bring home someone who's the same gender. He loves his parents, he trusts them, and he's still been terrified about letting them in on the life he was living at uni.
They know Dan, though. They ask after him every time they talk to Phil, call him whenever Phil doesn't answer his phone, tell him to think of them as 'mum' and 'dad'. Like he's part of the family. Like it's all the same to them what Dan is, as long as he's making Phil happy.
"You're sure you don't want to come up?" Phil asks, fully aware of how needy he sounds.
"Positive. It's important for you and your parents to get to know each other, like, as you are now. I'm afraid I'd just distract all of you with my wit and charm."
That's probably true. Phil huffs another sigh, anyway. He pulls a pillow closer to him, wraps an arm around it. "But I miss you."
"Christ, Phil," Dan says lightly. "You been drinking or something?"
"Am I not allowed to miss you?" Phil grumbles.
"Course you can miss me," says Dan. "I miss you when you're in another fucking room of the apartment, sometimes. I just haven't heard you say it so much since we first started dating."
Phil thinks that's a little unfair. It still feels like they are in that honeymoon stage of their relationship, to him.
He wonders how long it's going to take before his slow trickle of memories and natural progression of time team up to make him as settled in their relationship as Dan is. It's almost disheartening, knowing that Dan doesn't want him as desperately as he wants Dan. It's a different kind of want, of affection, and it's a kind that Phil has never experienced before. He's almost afraid to reach that point.
"I'll be quieter about it, then."
"Don't you dare," Dan says, and Phil laughs. The knot in his chest starts to ease.
"Should sleep," says Phil. "Mum wants to go for a walk before we eat breakfast, what the hell. Who walks?"
Dan laughs. "Be grateful Martyn isn't there, or the walk would turn into a hike before you could say," he makes a dramatic wheezing noise instead of finishing with a word, and Phil has to cover his mouth with a hand to contain giggles.
"You're so annoying," he whispers. He wonders if Dan can hear the emotion behind the words, the same way Phil has figured out that when Dan calls him stupid, it means 'I love you'.
"Yeah," Dan agrees warmly. Phil thinks, yeah. He can hear it. "Go to sleep, Lester."
--
"Oh, honey, you remember Mrs. Oliver, down the street?" his mum asks, bustling around the kitchen and waving Phil away anytime he tries to jump in and help. It's starting to get to him, a bit. He's not an invalid.
"No, mum," says Phil. He wonders if he sounds as annoyed as he feels. "I don't know any of your neighbours. I don't even know mine."
If he does sound annoyed, his mum breezes past it. "Right, of course. That's probably a good thing, to be honest with you, love - she's a right witch. Just last week..."
Phil zones out almost immediately. He loves his parents so, so much, but they have no idea how to act around him. His mum has been plying him with cakes and giving him neighbourhood gossip, doting like he's sick, and his dad has been watching him like he's a ticking time bomb.
That might actually be true. Phil had only clung to his composure by a thread when they decided to tell him, conversationally, about his dad's health issues. Just dropped the C word with no hesitation.
Being with his parents is nice, but he wishes he had Dan at his side. Even Martyn would be better than nothing. He needs something to dilute the smothering worry and death bombshells they've been putting in Phil's lap all weekend.
Phil has been counting down the hours until he can be back in the noise and bustle of London, far away from all this anxiety. He has never exactly been outdoorsy, and as much as he appreciates the beautiful views here, as much as he appreciates his lovely parents, he just wants to go home.
It's strange. By all intents and purposes, he should feel more comfortable around his parents than he does around Dan. He's known them his whole life, and twelve years isn't nearly enough to erase everything they know and love about each other. He hadn't known a single thing about Dan when he woke up in their shared kitchen, but. That doesn't seem to matter.
London isn't the only thing that feels like home to Phil. It isn't just the rolling hills and the sound of the sea making him unsettled, it's the lack of a big hand on the small of his back, guiding him away from a tripping hazard.
The itch hasn't gone away. Phil keeps expecting it to fade, the more he and Dan get to know each other as they are now, but it's still there. Persistent.
Growing up, Phil never expected to be someone that was scared of commitment. He'd always wanted what his parents had, after all, even after he came to terms with the fact that he might never be able to be married the way they were. Then, he actually started to try and date boys.
Phil doesn't fancy himself an expert on gay culture. He didn't join the society at uni or anything, has never read a queer theory book in his life. So he has no idea if this is, like, typical, but it turned out that gay boys - at Phil's university, in any case - weren't interested in dates. They only really cared about hooking up.
Honestly, Phil has never wanted anything more than he wanted to go on a proper date with someone he wasn't pretending to be attracted to, but it's always been easier to just act like those desires aren't there.
The idea of getting married, now, is terrifying instead of a pipe dream. He isn't sure when that happened.
Somehow, he'd become one of those boys who'd hurt him in the beginning, who called him the wrong name unapologetically or reminded him not to wake up their flatmates on his way out. He'd finally understood the appeal - he couldn't get hurt again if he didn't care again.
He doesn't want to hurt Dan, though. This self-built fear is his to deal with, something he's positive that 2019 Phil has long since gotten over.
"Mum," he says, cutting into whatever she's been saying about her neighbour while he sulks.
She doesn't seem very bothered by the interruption. She gives him a quizzical sort of smile as she mixes flour and eggs together. As if they need more bloody cakes in this house. "Yes, dear?"
"You like Dan, right?" he asks.
It feels like a pointless question. He knows the answer already.
Still, his mum doesn't laugh at him for asking. She smiles, more warmly, and leans her hip against the breakfast bar he's sat at. Phil's damaged brain supplies him with a hundred moments just like this one, watching his mum bake up a storm for no reason besides keeping her boys fed and happy.
"We love Dan," she assures him. Phil notices the 'we' statement, so caught up in the way Dan uses them as he's been. "He's a lovely boy."
"Even though he swears a lot?" Phil jokes weakly. He can't bring himself to ask the question he really wants to.
His mum gives him a look, like she knows exactly what he isn't saying. It's uncanny, how she's always been able to see through him. She'd had a blind spot, sure, but Phil can't put that on her shoulders when he'd done all he could to keep it under wraps.
"Daniel is lovely," she repeats, turning back to her mixing bowl. "He's a good man who takes care of you, dear, what else could we ask for? Besides, he's no worse than your brother."
Phil doesn't think that's true, exactly, as he's heard Dan come out with curses that Martyn probably doesn't know exist, but he isn't about to argue the point with her. Not when he hears the words she isn't saying.
They really don't mind. His mum and dad are happy for him, they have Dan calling them 'mum' and 'dad', after all. His brother doesn't bat an eye when his partner kisses him at the dinner table. They don't just tolerate this part of Phil's life - they embrace it. They embrace Dan, the man Phil had fallen in love with.
He doesn't think he's quite there. Not yet. He's never been in love before, so he's sure he'll notice when his feelings tumble into that.
"I miss him," he tells his mum's back, because he can say things like that to her now. That's not something he's going to take for granted, no matter how stressed they've been making him.
"You'll be home soon, love," she hums.
Home. Also known as the space where he slots his knees into the backs of Dan's and buries his nose against Dan's soft curls. He'll be there soon.
--
"How are you feeling, actually?"
Phil's dad looks up from the malfunctioning radiator and gives Phil a thin smile. "How are you feeling, actually?"
"Touché," Phil mumbles. He's not helping with the repairs so much as he's sitting on the cold cement floor and passing tools to his dad when he asks for them. He wonders who's going to do this sort of thing when he and Dan buy a home.
Great, now that itch is back. All he wanted was to know if this is something he should be learning how to do. They've probably got enough money to pay someone else to do it, Phil supposes.
Dan still hasn't let him look at his bank account or their joint account, which would bother Phil if he had any idea of how to handle money at all. His parents have taught him the basics of budgeting and investing, sure, but he doubts that they've properly prepared him at this scale. He's happy to leave all that to Dan for now.
"I'm feeling good, actually," his dad says. "Still kicking, and all."
"Same," says Phil. Neither of them laugh.
A quiet falls over them again as his dad works. Phil leans against the wall and tries not to get frustrated by the little glances his dad keeps sending his way.
He understands that they're worried. He'd be going out of his mind if this had happened to someone he loves. It's really starting to get to him, though, the undivided attention on his health when he is already so anxious about it to begin with. Don't they know that he's doing the best he can?
"Does it bother you that I don't know how to do this?" Phil asks. He wonders if he will ever be able to say what he means to the people he loves the most, to ask what is on his mind instead of layering it under something innocuous.
Being with Dan has been helping him with that, he thinks, but something about being around his parents always makes him revert back to a shy, uncertain teenager.
His dad hums thoughtfully and shakes his head. "No, you were never much into this sort of thing."
"And that doesn't... I dunno, disappoint you?"
"I could never be disappointed with you, kid," his dad says, almost incredulous with it. Like this is something Phil should already know. Like he's said it a million times. Phil can't speak for the past twelve years, but he knows damn well that he hadn't heard that enough, growing up.
"I'm just not," says Phil, scuffing at the floor with his socked foot. "Dunno. Not much of a man, I guess. I'm in my thirties, aren't I? I should be a man by now."
"You are a man, Philip," his dad says. "There's no right way to be a man."
It takes a lot to make him cry, but this conversation is getting to Phil in a spot he forgot was sore.
"Yeah," he says instead. "Need the torch?"
His dad lets the topic drop almost gratefully. Phil isn't sure if he's happy for that or not.
The frustration has been climbing up his spine all weekend. It's not exactly fair of him to be getting mildly annoyed by everything they've said, not when they're only trying to help. He takes a few deep breaths - in for four, hold for seven, out for eight, just like Dan taught him - and tries to pull a good mood back around him. For his dad's sake, if nothing else.
--
Phil has to get out of the house for a bit on his own, despite the chilly winds coming in like the waves and the lack of good cell signal.
He walks the same path he'd gone down with his parents that morning, pulling the fleece jacket tighter around his body. It's one of Dan's, something he'd smuggled into his bag and hoped Dan wouldn't miss.
The view here is unparalleled, really. Phil finds his breath catching several times, and only some of those are from exertion. He takes photos with his phone, because he's still clumsy with most of the controls, but he's figured out this one easily enough.
His phone doesn't have any social media apps on it, which he's not about to try and correct. Dan deleted them for a reason. So Phil opens his texts and sends a couple of the better photos to Dan.
The signal fails. The pictures don't go through. Phil wants to go home.
--
"This feels familiar," Phil says, grinning at his shoddy laptop camera.
"Does it?" Dan's voice is a bit distorted, his face more pixelated than Phil would like, but he's smiling so wide that Phil can't find it in himself to mind.
"Yeah," Phil says simply.
The sofa isn't very comfortable compared to the bed upstairs, but Phil had figured this would be better to not wake his parents up. He folds one leg under himself to try and find a position that doesn't make him feel hunched over his laptop like he's still a student.
Even through the mediocre quality of the webcam and internet connection, Dan looks good. He's wearing a wide-necked jumper and his curls are still soft and pushed off his face, like he hasn't bothered to do anything with them today. Phil wants to reach through the screen and run his fingers through them.
"Wonder why," Dan says in that teasing way he does when he knows something Phil doesn't.
Some days, that tone gets to Phil. When he's feeling anxious and frustrated with himself about all the things he can't remember, the last thing he needs is that tone.
Today, though, it makes him grin. He fiddles with the wireless earphones he's still getting the hang of and murmurs, "Tell me why."
"We used to do this for hours when I lived with my parents," says Dan. He messes with his curls to make them fall with more purpose, probably looking at himself in the screen instead of at Phil. "For, like, almost the whole first year we knew each other."
"You look fine, you dork," Phil says. He's watching Dan with an absent smile that, when he glimpses it in the corner of his screen, makes his breath catch. He's never seen that look on his own face before, doesn't even know what he'd label it as. Dan huffs a laugh, and Phil turns his attention back to him instead.
The lighting is low in Dan's room - in their room - but Phil can make out the warm colour of his eyes.
"You always think I look fine," says Dan, which doesn't exactly sound like a complaint. He leaves his hair alone, though. "Which is useless, since I know you have no taste."
"Is this about the carpet again?" Phil asks, exasperated.
"I just don't understand why you don't see the value of a good rug anymore," Dan whines. "It took me four years to convince you."
"Hardwood is cold on your feet in the morning and - you know what," says Phil, fighting back a laugh, "I'm not having this conversation again. We can duke it out when it's relevant, we aren't buying a house right now."
Dan grins at him. "I'll win."
Probably. Phil is stubborn, though, and he's not about to take everything Dan says about his changed tastes as fact when he could easily use that to win arguments.
"It's not relevant," Phil repeats. "You know what is relevant? I kind of remember Skyping you."
Dan is still and quiet for so long that Phil thinks he's frozen at first. Then he blinks. "You do?" he asks, voice careful.
"Kind of," Phil says, not wanting to get Dan's hopes up. He pulls a face, scratches at his jaw. "It's hard to explain. I don't remember doing it, I just remember that I have done it. Does that make sense?"
"No," says Dan, blunt as always. He smiles weakly. "Explain it to me?"
It's hard for Dan, Phil knows it is, but he makes such an effort all the time that Phil has, tentatively, attempted to do the same. He's not always comfortable talking about his innermost thoughts, since giving voice to things makes them more real. For Dan, he'll try.
"It's not like a flashback or anything," Phil says slowly. He doesn't want to say the wrong thing, but he also doesn't want to make Dan think he's still holding back. "That's not the way this has worked for me."
"I know," says Dan.
Phil traces shapes on his own knee, wishing he could be touching Dan instead. "It's more like... I just know."
"Right," Dan says, and Phil can hear the way he's holding something back. Disappointment? Excitement? "Kinda like déjà vu?"
"I guess so, except it isn't, like, disorienting. I just saw you on my screen and I was like, yeah, I've done this before." Phil feels like he's explaining this badly, like it's all coming out wrong. "I dunno, babe. I'm sorry it isn't more."
"You're," is all Dan says. He looks offscreen, takes a couple of deep breaths.
Maybe it's the familiarity of this whole thing, or the sound of Dan's shaky breathing in his ears, but Phil has the sudden certainty that he's looking at a Dan who is about to start crying. A Dan who has cried on Skype with him before, Phil knows that, too, somewhere deep in his gut.
"Hey," Phil says softly. "I'm sorry."
"You've got nothing to apologise for," Dan tells him, rather more sharply than Phil thinks it intends to come out. Dan grimaces. "Fuck. Sorry. I'm not - I'm not upset with you, Phil."
"You look upset," says Phil. The physical ache he's been carrying around all weekend has intensified, makes him think he could swim back to Dan if it would shorten the distance quicker. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Dan considers it for a moment. That on its own is a step in the right direction, Dan no longer brushing everything he's feeling off with a joke and a kiss. Phil taps an erratic rhythm against his knee while he waits for Dan to make up his mind. Eventually, he shakes his pretty head. "Not tonight. Can we talk about it when you're home, maybe?"
That's progress. Phil has to remind himself of that every time they make a point to communicate, every time he says or does something that makes Dan freeze up for a moment.
"Of course," Phil says. "Talk to me about hardwood floors some more. You're still wrong, but I'll hear you out."
Dan looks relieved, and Phil doesn't let that get to him. Neither of them are avoiding emotional conversations outright. Phil can remember the way Dan likes his eggs cooked, even though he can't remember learning that. Dan hasn't even eaten eggs in the past couple months, on a vegan kick that Phil doesn't understand, but Phil knows exactly how to cook them to make Dan grin at him across a breakfast bar.
Slow progress is still progress, Dan's therapist says. Phil is inclined to agree with her.
--
Leaving his parents is bittersweet. Phil always wants to spend more time with them, knows he'll never quite grow out of the momma's boy phase, but they've been getting under his skin all weekend.
Phil does wonder if that's a regular part of being a proper adult, the desire to cling to gained independence, or if it's just him feeling smothered and wistful for Dan.
He gives them tight, lingering hugs anyway, makes them promise to come visit him before Christmas. He'll feel better about that, he thinks. Having Dan around makes it all so much easier that he can't imagine living a life without him, now. He fits into the places where the rest of Phil should be, allows Phil to settle into shape around him.
It's early when Phil gets on the plane, early enough that he gets to watch the sun rise until he's dropped back under the line of clouds that seem to permanently hover over England. The sun still hasn't peeked out by the time Phil unlocks his front door and lets himself in, juggling his bag and keys and wallet and proceeding to drop them all on the floor of the entryway. There aren't any echoing noises from deeper into the flat, so Phil thinks it's safe to assume that Dan is still dead to the world.
Sure enough, he finds Dan spread out in the middle of their bed, his bare back rising and falling steadily with sleep. The blankets are in disarray, half underneath him and half wrapped around his legs.
Phil smiles. It feels like something settles into place inside of him just looking at the expanse of Dan's skin. He undresses to his pants and doesn't bother digging around for something else to wear, not when there's some necessary snuggling to be done. The cool air makes Phil shiver, but only until he's set his glasses aside and crawled into bed, pressing himself along Dan's back with a kiss to his lightly-freckled shoulder.
London is chilly in November, but Dan carries a warmth with him that emanates from his very core, and it drags Phil into sleep easily.
He's home now. He can breathe again.
--
Phil stirs from hazy dreams when his heat source disappears, and he makes a little whine of a noise to express his deep displeasure. He gets a throaty laugh in response.
"Fucking drama queen," Dan's voice breaks into his half-asleep state. It's soft, just like the kiss that's pressed to Phil's hair. "I'll be right back, I gotta piss."
"Wait," Phil yawns, stretching out his arms in search of Dan. He doesn't want to open his eyes. "Coffee?"
"You little - fuck, fine, yes, I'll make you some fucking coffee. Unbelievable."
Phil must fall back to sleep, because the next time he's coaxed into awareness, it's by the smell of coffee and the feel of a mouth on his jaw.
"Mm," Phil hums, reaching out to blindly pull Dan closer and tilt his head for a kiss.
Dan chuckles, a gust of breath against Phil's face before soft lips find his. Phil runs a hand over Dan's back, sleepy and hesitant, because that's not something he's always allowed to do. This time, Dan makes a pleased sort of noise against Phil's mouth before he pulls back with a low, "Mm, yourself. Good morning."
"Hey," Phil murmurs. He squints up at Dan and grins, loose with the contented feeling of being home. "Missed you, pretty boy."
The laugh he gets in response is more of a honk. Phil is so endeared. "You can't even see me," Dan points out. He's not wrong, but Phil doesn't have to have his glasses on to know how pretty Dan is.
"It's not like I forgot what you look like," Phil says dryly. He lets his hand continue to trace shapes on Dan's bare back, since Dan doesn't seem to mind the contact.
"Maybe I grew a beard."
"Yeah. Because you can totally grow an entire beard overnight."
"Probably couldn't grow a beard if you gave me a month," says Dan. "I missed you, too, stupid."
It feels like Phil has been away for weeks rather than a handful of days. He can't get enough of the bumps and grooves of Dan's back, like he's never touched it before, and his whole being aches to be impossibly closer.
He kisses Dan's temple - at least, he thinks he does, it's a bit of a blur but at least Dan doesn't make a noise as though Phil has accidentally connected with his eyeball - and runs his thumb slowly along the ridges of Dan's spine.
"We don't spend a lot of time apart, do we," says Phil. It isn't a question, really. He knows they don't.
"No," Dan says, simply. "Why should we?"
Phil supposes that there isn't a reason. In the back of his mind there are always niggling fears, worst case scenarios chasing each other around until he's worked himself up, and right now those fears are trying to make themselves known. The codependency of it crawls over Phil's skin, making him itch.
He doesn't want to spend more time away from Dan, that isn't it at all. It just worries him that he doesn't know if he'd even be able to.
The weight of Dan on him is solid, the skin under his fingers so soft and warm, and that helps Phil feel grounded.
"Let me up, baby," says Phil. He needs coffee and maybe some food before he feels fully functional, even though this is his third time waking up this morning. He might have a problem.
Dan huffs - at the pet name or at Phil himself, it's unclear - but flops onto his side next to Phil anyway. He keeps his hand on Phil's thigh through their blanket and gives him a lazy grin. "You're less grumpy today. Happy to be home?"
"You've no idea," Phil says, sitting up against the headboard so he can cradle his mug to his chest and breathe in the aroma. "I love them so much, but it's not the same."
"I've got some idea," Dan says on a yawn. "You bring any cakes home?"
"Of course. What do you take me for?" Phil scoffs. He shoves his glasses unceremoniously onto his face with one hand so he can actually see more than the vague shapes that make up his boyfriend.
Fiancé, he guesses. Technically.
The smile that Dan shoots up at him is sleepy. His eyes are half-lidded and a little red, lashes clumped together by the moisture that wells up every time he yawns. He's just in his pants, like Phil, and he's not self conscious about it in the slightest. Once again, Phil is struck dumb by how beautiful he is.
"What?" Dan asks after a long moment of Phil just looking at him. Hints of dimples are showing around his mouth, like he's holding back a bigger grin.
"Nothing, you're just," says Phil. Adjectives bump against each other at the forefront of his mind, competing to be the most truthful without being ridiculously sappy. He can call Dan pretty or hot without issue, but a flush creeps its way up Phil's neck the moment he wants to say something like 'gorgeous', 'perfect'.
"Just the best thing that's ever happened to you, right?" Dan says, all performative sarcasm.
Yeah, Phil thinks. He doesn't say it. He doesn't think he can.
"Totally," he says instead, dripping his voice in the same irony as Dan's. He refocuses on his coffee, and Dan starts to scroll through his phone.
He leaves his hand on Phil's thigh, though. He's not usually the one initiating contact, always complains jokingly when Phil reaches for him too much, but Phil guesses that Dan has missed him almost as much as Phil has missed Dan.
Phil drinks his coffee and watches Dan's screen scroll through photos of people he doesn't recognise, places he's never been.
The scrolling stops on a face Phil does recognise with a jolt, just long enough for Dan to tap it twice with his thumb and move on. It's so strange to see Anthony Padilla look... old. He's not old, not really - Phil can't remember for sure, but he's fairly certain the Smosh guys are the same age as him - but Phil is so used to seeing him look a specific way. He's got an image in his mind of the way Smosh looks, of the way he looks, and it's like the screens and mirrors are lying to him.
It doesn't help that Phil sees a bit of Dan in the pose, the curly hair, the big sweater. He wonders what came first, wonders which of them looked at the other and saw something they wanted in themselves, or if they even did it consciously. By the time Phil thinks to ask if they know each other or just know of each other, Dan has opened a different application.
--
Being with Dan is too much, sometimes.
Phil has been very lucky in his life. He knows what it feels like to be loved unconditionally by his parents, his brother, a handful of friends, and how it feels to love them the same. The way that Dan loves him, though, is different. New. Something Phil didn't know could ever be directed at him.
Most days it isn't an issue. Dan loves him, and he's very fond of Dan, and they do all they can to meet each other in the middle of the gaping chasm where a decade used to be.
But there are moments when the itch gets so bad, when Dan's big hands and brown eyes get so intense, that Phil doesn't know how to handle it. Dan loves him so much that he projects it like an aura, enveloping Phil in the gentle warmth he manages to carry with him even when he's shouting obscenities at Phil over a game, and sometimes.
Sometimes, it's overwhelming. When it gets like that, the smallest things can make Phil feel like he's missed a step or five on a staircase he can't see the bottom of. It's not stifling, suffocating, upsetting. It's simply too much.
He doesn't know how to convey that to Dan. How to explain the itch. So he doesn't.
In the days following his return from the Isle, Phil feels it more than he ever has. Something about being apart, even if it was only for three nights, has Dan clinging in a way that Phil hasn't experienced yet. Sure, Dan is cuddly enough, especially when they're curled up together in bed or on the sofa, but this is another level.
Dan has currently plastered himself to Phil's back while he washes the dishes, an arm slung over Phil's shoulder, lips pressed to Phil's jaw, and he's stayed there for nearly fifteen minutes while he chatters on about whatever's on his mind.
It's not the casual brushes of lips and fingers that Phil expects, that they both initiate every day; it's Dan planting his feet and staying in Phil's space like he never wants to leave it again.
That's scary. Never is a scary, overwhelming, too much word.
"Love you," Dan reminds him on his way out of the room, taking the overwhelming warmth of his aura with him. He no longer qualifies the statement with a 'you don't have to say it back'. Phil doesn't know if that's because he wants Phil to say it or because he thinks Phil has probably understood that by now.
The words get choked in Phil's throat the way they do every time. It's reflex, instinct, to say he loves someone when they say it to him. That wouldn't be a fair thing for Phil to slip up with at all.
Phil breathes deeply in the sudden quiet of their big kitchen and tries to calm himself from that missed-step panic.
--
"What are you doing?"
There's a note to Dan's voice that Phil doesn't recognise, not without turning around to see his face. It's sleepy confusion, mostly, and Phil doesn't think he needs to know what else it is.
"I'm snooping," says Phil. His hands pause in their rifling. "Or organizing, I guess, but snooping makes it sound more fun."
"It's five in the morning," Dan tells him.
Oh. That is a bit startling. Phil doesn't know what time it was when he gave up on sleep and got out of bed, but he's made it through a dresser and a half. He wonders if he's sorting things wrong, if Dan's got a system for the drawers like he does for their hangers.
Phil stares down at his hands, tangled with the loose socks in one of their top drawers. He feels weirdly disconnected from the physical sensation.
"You didn't come to bed," Phil says, the reason behind his earlier restlessness coming back to him.
"No, sorry," says Dan. He doesn't actually sound sorry, but Phil still can't figure out how he does sound. "I got caught up in this thread, I know I've read it before but I, like, forgot enough about it that it still fucked me up? There was this guy and he kept seeing these, I dunno, sticky notes, I fucking guess, in his own writing, and he didn't remember writing them, right, so he -"
"Cool," Phil says, probably too sharp. He isn't sure where that story is going, but he knows that it's hitting a bit too close to home as it is.
There's a beat. "Sorry," Dan says again. This time it seems like he means it.
Phil shrugs. "I'm not upset."
"No, you're not. Will you look at me?"
Honestly, Phil had forgotten about his physical form entirely. He blinks. After a moment, he takes his hands out of the drawer to turn and face Dan.
Dan smiles. He looks exhausted, sitting at the foot of their bed in just an oversized jumper. Probably some pants, as well, but the way his top hangs makes it impossible to tell for sure. His long legs are bare and crossed at the ankles.
"Are you wearing pants?" Phil blurts out, like his thought process is connected directly to his tongue.
He is reminded, ridiculously, of Cordelia Chase, and the way her speech and thoughts mirrored perfectly. Sure, he can't remember the PIN to his own bank card, but he can get a flashback to Earshot like he watched it last week. He wonders if Charisma is happy in 2019.
Phil's thoughts are ping-ponging so much that he almost misses it when Dan laughs and nods, rucking up the front of his jumper to show them off. "Yeah, you fucking pervert, I'm wearing pants."
The sound of Dan's laugh relaxes some of the tension that Phil didn't even realise he was holding in his body, and he gives Dan a tired grin.
"Oh, I'm the pervert?" he teases. He gestures behind himself, indicating the dresser he's half done organizing. "I'm not the one who's got a collection of women's underwear. Unless I am? Am I? You'd tell me if I wore women's underwear, wouldn't you?"
Dan's lips twitch, but he gives Phil a surprisingly stern look. "They're not 'women's underwear'," he says with little air quotes. "They're just underwear."
This seems like one of those things Dan can rant about for hours that Phil doesn't completely understand and has to make discreet Google searches to keep up with, but he's always willing to listen. Or, well, any time but five in the morning, he'd be willing to listen. He's sure Dan can rant about gender roles and normativity when they're both properly awake.
He's curious about this, though. He does his best to make sure that the curiosity is all that comes through, doesn't want to accidentally sound like he's being judgemental when he says, "So they're yours, then."
"Yeah," says Dan, simple.
"Is it a sex thing?" Phil asks, because apparently a distinct lack of sleep makes him tactless. He thinks of Cordelia again.
Dan doesn't seem bothered by the question. He shrugs, pulling idly at the collar of his jumper. "Sometimes. Not always. I dunno, Phil, not everything I own is from the men's section. I just buy things I like and wear them when I want to."
He says it like it isn't a big deal, but Phil isn't stupid. Dan doesn't do anything without overthinking it. Neither of them do, really, although they overthink in different ways - Phil's anxiety is what makes his thoughts race and his palms sweat at any decision he makes, while Dan will sit down in a quiet place and let all his thoughts tumble forward so he can try to sort through them.
It's so easy to picture. Dan in one of those stores Phil is always afraid to touch anything in, flipping through hangers with a bored look on his face. Getting his attention caught by something black and glittery on the opposite wall. Hesitating. Turning to Phil and saying, "Sometimes I wish I was a girl."
Phil realises with a little jolt that it isn't imagination alone. He knows in his gut that the exchange, or something like it, has happened before. He remembers the nervous look on Dan's face all too well.
"It's not weird," Phil says, to the Dan in front of him and the younger Dan in his mind's eye. "I don't fully get it, but that's okay. I shouldn't have said it was weird."
Something flashes across Dan's face, too quick for Phil to decipher.
"I know it isn't," says Dan. "But thanks."
He doesn't think that Dan has always known that. He thinks that there must have been a lot of bravery in the simple action of crossing a store. But it's five in the morning and they're both tired, rough around the edges with it, so Phil holds his tongue.
"In any case, your underwear's been sorted and folded," Phil informs him.
Dan rolls his eyes, but he's smiling. "Folded, sure. I've seen you try to fold shit that's a hell of a lot easier than some of the pants I have."
"There's just not a lot of fabric to some of them," Phil admits. The material hadn't helped, since Phil doesn't think he's ever touched lace that isn't attached to a tablecloth at his grandparents' house. "I did my best."
"I'm sure you did," says Dan. He dimples up at Phil and reaches his hands out in invitation. The missed-step swoop in Phil's stomach doesn't come, so he just smiles back and steps closer, settles himself comfortably on Dan's bare thighs. "So, I was thinking about when you Skyped me."
It takes Phil a moment to try and figure out Dan's train of thought, see where the statement has come from, but he decides that it's useless. Dan could have been waiting to bring it up for days now and a tired Phil with no filter was exactly the opener he needed.
"Yeah," Phil says, tracing the bags under Dan's sleepy eyes with his thumbs. "What about it?"
"I don't think I'm being very fair to you," says Dan. "When you remember things, I mean. It's a good thing, and I was happy, I just."
He pauses, bites his lower lip.
"You just wish it was more," Phil finishes for him. A small pang hits him in the stomach when Dan grimaces and nods. "That's okay, you know. You're allowed to wish I was... him, again."
"You're not separate people," Dan says again, quiet.
"I kind of am," says Phil. "I hope you know that I - I want to be him. For you, and for me, because he seems like he's got a really good handle on this life thing and I've got no bloody idea what I'm doing, but I can't just. I can't make myself him. I can't even, like, guarantee he'll ever fully be here again."
Dan's inhale is shaky. He runs his hands up and down Phil's thighs in a show of comfort, although Phil can't tell which of them it's for.
"That's scary," Dan murmurs. His eyes are so big and warm and vulnerable, Phil almost feels like he shouldn't be seeing him like this. "That's really fucking scary, Phil."
"It's scary for me, too," Phil reminds him. He's got a bit of a tightness in his chest, anxious from the lack of sleep and too-serious conversation, and he tucks his face into Dan's neck to break from the eye contact. "I don't want this to be happening, you know? I kind of hate it. You're so - you're really good, Dan, you like. Deserve to have him back."
The room is quiet for a little while. It's dark in the safety of Dan's neck, and only the feeling of Dan's hands on his thighs keeps Phil grounded to reality.
Eventually, Dan says, "Thanks for saying that, but also, like. We've gotten through a lot together. I'm sure we can handle this if it's permanent. It's just one of those things that... we aren't going to know what we're doing right away."
You're home for me, Phil thinks. You're home, and that's overwhelming sometimes.
"You can tell me what we've all gotten through tomorrow," is what Phil says. He pulls back and presses his lips to Dan's cheek, because he can. "I think we should get some sleep."
"Alright, stupid," Dan hums, squeezing Phil's thighs and dimpling up at him. He's so beautiful that it makes something ache in Phil's chest, some weird combination of pride and want. "You'll have to get off me, first."
"Okay," says Phil.
It takes him another few minutes to actually leave Dan's lap. Luckily, Dan doesn't seem to mind.
--
Dan still doesn't think that having social media on his phone is a good idea for Phil, too easy to get overwhelmed by, but he's happy to sit back against Phil's chest while they watch tv and scroll through his own feeds. He shows Phil a lot of things that Phil doesn't understand, and most of it is just perplexing.
Some of it is viscerally upsetting, but Phil knows that Dan doesn't mean for it to be. Advances in technology are only cool to hear about until the wheel of worst case scenarios in Phil's head starts to spin. Maybe self-driving cars and robots that talk back are neat to think about in theory, but the reality of them makes Phil so, so anxious.
He hears Dan murmur, "God, she's getting so big."
So he looks. Then, suddenly, he feels like he is going to pass out. All the blood in his body rushes to his head and his eyes start to water, because. What the hell.
The girl in the photo isn't one Phil recognises. She looks younger than twelve - he isn't good at guessing ages, he'd place her between six and nine - so he guesses that's not very surprising. What's making his head spin is the man with her.
"Is that Ian?" Phil asks, blinking a bunch like it'll change the fact right in front of him.
Dan locks his phone immediately and winces, turning in Phil's arms to hold him close. "Yeah, that's Ian and his daughter. Are you okay? I should have warned you, I didn't even think."
"Ian has a daughter?" Repeating it doesn't make it sound any more true. Phil shakes his head. "I just watched him throw up in a girl's purse. Like, he just gave himself a concussion trying to climb out of a ground floor window. He doesn't have a daughter."
"Are you okay?" Dan asks again, softer.
No, Phil isn't okay. The reality is, of course Ian has a daughter. All of Phil's friends and family have lived a life that he no longer has access to. Every memory he has of Ian is so much clearer than the memories Ian must have of him, clouded by time and nostalgia. He wonders if Ian remembers the concussion and then thinks, don't be silly, how could he forget? How could he forget anything about Phil? How could Phil have forgotten anything about him?
"No," he says out loud, because Dan deserves to know the truth. "No, I fucking hate this. I hate it, Dan."
The laugh that's startled out of Dan is wobbly and wet, and Phil really wishes he wouldn't cry. If Dan cries again, Phil will desperately want to comfort him, and he wants this selfish moment of anger for himself.
Dan's voice isn't shaky when he speaks, though, his arms tightening around Phil and their legs all tangled. "Yeah, it really sucks, huh? She's a good kid, if that helps. She likes you."
"I don't know if that helps," Phil says, "but thank you for saying it."
He wonders what Ian thinks of Dan. How does his best friend feel about Phil settling down like this? Was it surprising to him or did it seem organic if you'd lived it?
It doesn't feel organic to Phil. He's getting there, he is, because Dan is wonderful and he wants to be around him all the time, but. Dan feels like home in a way that Phil doesn't think he's earned.
Slow progress is still progress, Phil reminds himself. He knows how to cook Dan eggs he doesn't even eat anymore, knows what Dan looks like when he's about to start crying on Skype, knows a thousand things that he's learned ever since he woke up on the kitchen floor.
It's progress. He has to keep telling himself that or he's going to lose his entire mind.
Dan's voice, quiet and empathetc, breaks into Phil's spiralling frustration. "Do you want to talk about it?"
No, Phil doesn't want to talk about it. He isn't okay and he doesn't want to make a big deal out of it in case everything comes tumbling out at once.
The itch isn't there right this second, but Phil knows how easily it comes on. He wonders if there's a way to get rid of it without Dan ever knowing its existence, wonders how his brother and parents and probably Ian are all so chill about this relationship when Phil himself feels like it's all-consuming.
He can't exactly get frustrated with Dan for not talking about his feelings if he just turns around and does the same thing, though. So.
"No," he says, "but I will anyway."
Despite his worries, Phil's words don't come tumbling out the moment he gives them permission. Instead he has to force them, stammering and avoiding Dan's big brown eyes as he talks about the way it feels to be thrust into a life he doesn't remember making, a life he doesn't feel like he deserves. He talks about the itch under his skin that he'd thought would go away if he just embraced the reality of being in a committed relationship and how it hasn't, really, and sometimes it feels even worse than it had when he first woke up.
Dan lets him talk. He's good at that, Phil thinks. He doesn't try to interject in any of the pauses where Phil forces himself to say things that have been on his mind for almost two entire months.
It isn't until Phil apologises that Dan's large hand is covering his own and squeezing.
"What on earth are you sorry for, stupid?" Dan murmurs. "I'm glad you told me you feel this way, because, like, it isn't the first time."
Phil blinks. He meets Dan's gaze, his heart pounding a bit at the sheer amount of affection behind those eyes. He turns his hand over to link their fingers together, holds tight like Dan is an anchor. "What?"
"I told you," Dan says with a sad little smile. "I know everything about you. Do you really think you never panicked when we first moved in together and a dozen times after that? Do you think I didn't? You're not the only one who was in love for the first time, Lester. I know it's been a few years, but I remember how it feels to be thrown in the deep end of feelings you can't get a fucking grip on."
The sheer relief at being understood washes over Phil, and he laughs.
"Ten years," he says, the same awe as always washing over him as he does. Right in this moment, it doesn't scare him the way it has been.
Dan's smile is still sad, but his eyes are twinkling. "Ten years. There's no part of your bullshit I can't handle by now."
"You're so annoying," Phil says. He knows that Dan can hear the emotion behind it, the same way Phil has figured out that being called stupid means 'I love you', but voicing his other feelings has made him brave and stupid with it. "I think - no, I don't think, I'm pretty fucking sure - that I, like, love you."
He's not sure what he expects. His heart is pounding and he waits for Dan to beam at him or cry or something else ridiculous, but Dan just gives him a little shrug.
"I know," he says, grinning. "I know you." He doesn't say it back this time, but that's okay.
Phil knows him, too.
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winterune · 4 years
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I am emotionally drained. 
I love it. So much. I really do! God, I think it was from around episode 6 that I keep crying on every episode. It just really plays with your emotion in every chance it has. And the one that hurts me the most? The broken relationship between this mother and daughter. It’s just.... ;-;;; I’m just a sucker for well-written family drama, and this particular dynamic is very complex and very layered and I love it very much even though it hurts me so. Ri Jeong Hyeok is just one of the best male leads! (OK yes I have a soft spot for cool characters with a hidden soft, sweet, adorable side). And Yoon Se Ri is just so...uughhhh i LOVE HER! This drama keep reminding me of Melina Marchetta’s On the Jellicoe Road to be honest lol, especially how they met on that bridge in Switzerland (the circumstance, not the scene itself). 
I just have one complaint. (spoilers ahead, read at your own risk)
Seung Jung. 
The heck with them killing off Seung Jung?? The guy deserves better! He’s such a great character with a great arc and I can’t believe they decided to kill him! I mean, Se Ri and Jeong Hyeok have gone through life-threatening situations multiple times yet they still come back alive. What’s the point of even killing him? The only reason why is so Seo Dan will have a reason to get revenge and payback Se Ri’s brother. But, you know, I think they can still do that even without killing Seung Jung. Because Seung Jung has gone through a lot, and just as he finally wants to become a better man, they kill him. Sure there’s a lot of movies like that too, but...uuugghh! I don’t even feel the impact of his death! I was sad for a short while, but because this is not Seung Jung’s story but Se Ri and Jeong Hyeok, I didn’t grieve for him very long and now all I feel is frustration because he could have been more! 
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Episode 18 Review: Making Biscuits
{ YouTube: 1 | 2 }
{ Synopses/Recaps: Debby Graham | Bryan Gruszka }
{ Screencaps }
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Early morning on Maljardin. Exhausted from a day of shock and disbelief at the arrivals of her mother and Reverend Dawson on the island paradise(?) of Maljardin, Holly sleeps on the couch in the château’s great hall. Quietly, a fully dressed Jean Paul descends the grand staircase and stops behind the couch to cover her with a blanket. “Hi, Dad,” she says. “I had a dream. I thought that-”
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I know that she’s probably a bit creeped out, but, honestly, I kind of envy Holly in this scene. There are days that I wish that I could wake up to see Jean Paul Desmond at my bedside. I know he has all kinds of issues and personality flaws, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t find him cute and charming.
She tells him that she was dreaming about waiting for her father at home. “I know the feeling only too well,” he responds. “ Sometimes you know when memories haunt dreams, nightmares can follow.” I know that he is probably referring to nightmares about Erica’s death and/or to that freaky dream sequence with Raxl from the end of Episode 5, but still, I have to wonder if he, like Holly, lost his father at a young age. They reveal a little about Jean Paul’s father in the third and final arc of the show, but I don’t recall them discussing the specifics of his death beyond one thing that would be a spoiler to mention at this point. It would have been interesting to learn a bit about Jean Paul’s father in the Maljardin arc, but, unfortunately, we don’t.
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So gallant! <3
We cut to a scene of Dan waiting impatiently for Jean Paul at the French Leave Café while talking to Vangie. Mostly, this scene exists so that Vangie can elaborate on why Maljardin is so hard to get to. “That channel is a cross between a tide and a continual tornado,” she says. “It's full of rocks and shoals. Actually, it’s never even been properly charted.” (Except probably by one of the des Mondes.) This is the only new information we get in any of the scenes between Dan and Vangie in this episode; the rest is nearly all recap, so I’m going to skip over most of it.
We return to Maljardin, where Holly and Jean Paul are sipping coffee from some dainty little cups. Before leaving for the main island, he asks her to attend Erica’s funeral, but she is reluctant because her mother and Reverend Dawson will be there. He advises her essentially to suck it up and go--which, as she points out, sounds like something "the good padre” would say. And then this happens:
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I...don’t think that’s the generator.
Holly goes running upstairs and, just after, Jacques reveals that it was indeed he who tampered with the generator:
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Love Jacques’ sarcasm in talking about the importance of the Holly portrait and how Tim and Holly may be “finished” before it is. And yes, the good Jacques portrait is back!
Next, we get what has to be the single most painful line of dialogue that the usually witty Jacques gets on the entire show: “Dear me, it does pose a dilemma,” says he about the situation with the Holly portrait that Boring Artist Tim is painting. “Pose, portrait, dilemma. A little play on words.” He snickers, indicating that at least he thinks the line is funny. “But I assure you I'm not playing games.” As Paflad would say, “BADOOM, and indeed, TSHHH!“
After the bad pun storm is over, he tells Jean Paul to bring Dan back with him to Maljardin because “[Jacques wants] to be sure that he doesn’t work against [him].” Cut to the second Dan and Vangie scene, where they recap nearly all the most important events on the show so far. It’s not all recap, however, as we do hear Vangie’s interpretation of the King of Wands, one of the Tarot cards featured last episode:
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Vangie: “This way, a man of immense wealth and prestige and power in the world.”
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“Reverse him, and he becomes the traditional card of ill-omen, a devil himself. Jean Paul Desmond...or Jacques Eloi des Mondes.”
And now onto the scene featuring the Matt-Holly-Tim love triangle, which feels endless because I can’t stand this subplot. I’m planning on writing a post someday explaining everything that’s wrong with this subplot and exactly why it doesn’t work, but I want to wait until after I’ve reviewed at least three more episodes featuring it. Nothing important happens in this scene, but we do get these lines:
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Holly: "I wish my mother was on canvas instead of always on my back."
Be careful what you wish for, Holly. Someday you could have a portrait of Elizabeth Marshall that speaks to you constantly and manipulates you into doing things that make no sense to other characters. (Not a spoiler.)
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The best Tim line on the show, and it’s a line flub. Go figure.
After the seemingly endless Tim scene ends, we return to the main island, where Jacques possesses Jean Paul while he is meeting with Dan. (He takes Jacques’ suggestions an awful lot, and I’m not sure if it’s because he actually agrees or because Jacques is manipulating him and he finds it too hard to resist.) We start with this shot of Jacques with ever-so-mildly creepy lighting:
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Not scary, but it successfully conveys the message that Jacques has just taken control.
This scene makes up for the mediocrity of the rest of this episode. Jacques is his devilishly charming self, impersonating Jean Paul and making a fool of him by behaving far too cheerfully for a man in mourning. When Dan questions him, he insists that he’s only putting on a brave face and inwardly grieving, but Dan remains suspicious.
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I must admit that I found this Jacques line--cheesy as it is--pretty funny.
Jacques, of course, takes advantage of the opportunity to troll him. Why not? For the first eleven episodes, he stuck to aiding Jean Paul and mostly just did things that they both wanted to do, with just a few exceptions like killing Dr. Menkin and giving Alison romantic dreams about him. Since Episode 12, however, he has been regularly screwing with Jean Paul’s life, trying to undermine nearly everything he tries to do in some way unless it also benefits him. By now, Jacques is in control of Jean Paul even when he’s inside the painting and so he probably feels he can get away with anything.
Anyway, remember when Jacques fired Dan in Episode 15? Well, he’s re-hired now and invited to Maljardin. He’s also more confused than ever, particularly because Jacques (who he believes is Jean Paul) keeps making faces like this:
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BISSITS FACE!
For those of you who haven’t read my review of Episode 4 or who don’t remember it, Bissits Face™ is the name I gave to the cartoonish faux-innocent face that Jacques likes to make, where he opens his eyes extremely wide and purses his lips in a very cute way. The name comes from its resemblance to the face my cat makes when he makes biscuits, or “bissits” as I call them in baby-talk. I know the name is silly, but it is a silly face and probably not one you’d make in real life if you genuinely wanted to appear innocent--which is further evidence that Jacques thinks that he’s smarter than everyone else (and is probably right).
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If his wrists weren’t crossed, he’d look like he was getting ready to make biscuits on that table like a cat.
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Meow?
Of course, this isn’t his only bug-eyed expression, and he does keep those gorgeous blue peepers open quite a lot. I think that Colin Fox intended for Jacques to look “crazy,” which would explain all the wide-eyed expressions he has him make. Crazy eyes are, after all, pretty much standard acting technique for playing characters who are mentally disturbed to some degree. There’s an old French actor named Gérard Berner whom I’ve nicknamed “Crazy Eyes,” because, in the two miniseries I’ve seen him in (La dame de Monsoreau (1971) and Le roi qui vient du sud (1979)), he played characters with anger problems and, when said characters got enraged, he opened his eyes so wide that you would swear they were about to fall out of his head. This scene from Monsoreau is a good example, as is the one that follows it (Berner is the man with the longish hair and the silver doublet). Obviously, the intended meaning of Bissits Face™ is “I’m pretending to be innocent” and not “I’m angry,” but it’s still the same technique.
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Gérard Berner (right) as François d’Anjou in La dame de Monsoreau (1971), demonstrating the crazy eye technique in a very different context.
Anyway, after Dan leaves to get ready to sail to Maljardin, Jacques and Vangie exchange a few words. By this point, she knows for certain who he is and that he will bring death to the island.
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A rare instance of the subtitles getting Vangie’s name right.
I really like this exchange, so, as with many other exchanges that I really like, I’m going to post a full transcription:
Jacques: "Did you hear it all, Vangie?" Vangie: "Enough to make me wonder if I shouldn't contact the newspapers and let them find out the kind of man you really are."
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Jacques: "You wouldn't do that, because you're afraid of my...power."   Vangie: "In this world...or the next?" 
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Jacques: "Next world?" *laughs* "What are you talking about? You've been playing cards too much. It's dulling your senses."   Vangie: "My father is dead. I am now the Conjure Woman. My senses are greater than ever. There is evil roaming on Maljardin. It must be destroyed."
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Getting nervous, Jacques?
Jacques: "Vangie! You and your witchcraft. It will be the death of me yet.” Vangie: "I'm after the Devil."
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Yup, definitely nervous.
Jacques: "And he's after you!"
And then we have a marvelous little credits scene where Jacques sits down in the big wicker chair, looking enormously pleased with himself. He puts his feet up on the table in front of him, grins, polishes his ring, all while looking incredibly self-satisfied. I love this comment about it on YouTube: “I can imagine the director telling Colin at the end credits,'Ok Colin-Baby, now just sit there and look smug...that's it...more smug-more smug...annnnd got it!'”
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Smug.
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Smugger.
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Smuggest.
This episode is typical of Wednesday episodes on this show: light on plot and heavy on recap and character interaction that may or may not be filler. The only important things that happen in this one are (1) Jacques brings Dan with him to Maljardin and (2) Vangie reveals to Jacques that she has become the Conjure Woman and therefore a powerful opponent. But neither of these happen until the final scene, so, in all honesty, one could skip over most of this episode without missing much save for Tim’s hilarious line flub.
Coming up next: Reverend Dawson holds Erica’s funeral and Holly discusses an interesting nightmare she had about her mother.
{ <-- Previous: Episode 17   ||   Next: Episode 19 --> }
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adorkablephil · 6 years
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Fic: The Roles We Play (4)
Title: The Roles We Play Summary: Dan Howell and Phil Lester work together as voice actors for BBC radio dramas in the late 1930s, but slowly begin to develop “inappropriate” feelings for each other Rating: G Word Count: 3,046 (this chapter) Tags: Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Historical AU, 1930s, BBC, Radio, Actors AU, Slow Burn, Love Letters, Past Character Death, Grief, Angst Author’s Note: This fic was inspired by the @phanfichallenge 20k History Challenge. A bazillion thanks, as always, to my amazing beta, India! See my note on the first chapter regarding historical inaccuracies.
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[ All Chapters Masterlist ]
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18 March 2001
Kathleen should have gone home about an hour ago, but she’d found herself unable to put down the letters emerging from the shoebox. She needed to know more! She wanted to know how it all turned out … and yet she wasn’t willing to cheat by skipping to the letters in the bottom of the box. She wanted to read each in its turn, following the story as it had unfolded in these men’s real lives.
She had also fallen hopelessly in love with Great-Uncle Dan and wished desperately that she’d gotten a chance to know him. If Phil Lester’s letters to him were any indication, Daniel Howell had been an incredibly wonderful person well worth loving.
Picking up her phone, she called her husband to tell him what was happening. He, too, expressed curiosity and urged her to stay as late as she liked. He would give the kids their dinner and even put them to bed if necessary. “No,” Kathleen objected. “I’ll be home before bedtime, I promise. I just want to read a few more letters.”
“Order in some food,” her husband, Stuart, insisted. “Look on their fridge. Even crusty old men probably have takeaway menus on their refrigerator. Have some dinner, read some more letters, and come home when you’re ready. You can always go back tomorrow to read more. Or bring the box with you.”
Kathleen shook her head, even though she knew Stuart couldn’t see her. “It would feel wrong to take the shoebox out of the house,” she explained. “I can’t explain it, but I don’t even want to move it off the table. My great-uncle had it open here—left it here perhaps the night before he died in his bed—and it seems disrespectful to move something so precious to him away from where he left it.”
“Well,” Stuart replied slowly, “you will eventually have to sell the house. And probably the table, as well.”
Kathleen laughed. “I know. I don’t need to leave it here forever … just … maybe until I’ve finished reading all the letters. Then I can pack them up and take them home. Save them somewhere special.”
“That sounds like a good idea,” Stuart agreed gently. He was a good man. “Just make sure to eat something and don’t stay too late. Remember, you can go back tomorrow.”
“Yes, sweetheart. I’ll see you in perhaps two hours.” They said their goodbyes, and Kathleen wandered into the house’s tidy kitchen. All of the cabinet doors were slightly ajar for some reason, so she shut them. Such things disturbed her sense of order, and she wondered why her Great-Uncle Dan would have left the doors open like that. Did he honestly not notice or care? Or had it been some odd personal choice she could not understand? Did he have some reason for preferring them that way?
As Stuart had predicted, there were indeed a number of takeaway menus on the refrigerator. The one on top was for Domino’s Pizza, so Kathleen decided to order from them in honor of this house’s former occupants and their apparent culinary preferences. She phoned and was asked if she would like the usual order for that address, with all the dips. “Er … no,” she replied, and then ordered herself a simple, small pepperoni pizza. She also helped herself to some Ribena from the kitchen, where she found an entire drawer full of bottles of the stuff. It helped her feel more connected to them, as if she were somehow drinking their favorite drink with them. She raised her glass in a toast to Daniel Howell and Philip Lester, still uncertain whether Philip had been her great-uncle’s “housemate” or if Dan had found some other love later in life. She very much hoped that this had been Dan and Philip’s home together.
Waiting for the food to be delivered, sipping her glass of Ribena, she returned to the kitchen table and eagerly picked up the next letter.
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4 August 1939
My most beloved Daniel,
In my lonely house at night, I think only of you. I re-read your letters and hold them to my heart. I think of the sweet words you have written and wish that I could hear them spoken by your lips.
I fear I am utterly besotted. Will you laugh at me? I think not, for I believe you share the intensity of my feelings, but I sometimes feel so alone, isolated in my inability to speak to you on these topics directly. Every time your eyes meet mine, I feel as if I have missed a step on a flight of stairs, as if I am suddenly falling. And, as when falling, I am not entirely without fear, but I like to imagine my fall ending with me landing in your arms.
Fancifully yours, Philip
-
There were many such papers: some proper love letters and others simple short notes. Kathleen’s pizza arrived, and she began eating absentmindedly, her attention still primarily on the letters from the shoebox. She held them far away from the pizza, however, lest pizza grease stain anything. She would rather risk pizza sauce falling on her own clothing than besmirch her great-uncle’s love letters.
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18 September 1939
My Beloved Daniel,
Today during the radio broadcast, you touched my hand by chance, and I found myself momentarily unable to speak. You may perhaps be a negative influence upon my career, and yet I want only to feel the touch of your hand again and again. I want to hold your hand in mine and press a gentle kiss to your palm.
With these thoughts in mind, I will seek sleep tonight in my lonely bed and mail this upon the morrow so that I may hope to inspire dreams of you as long as the letter remains in my possession. In truth, I dream of you most nights, and expect tonight will be no different. I hope you also dream of me.
Yours always and forever, Philip
-
The doorbell rang again, surprising Kathleen. She looked at her watch to see that it was now early evening, and she should really leave this work behind and return to her family soon. She wondered who might be at the door, and so went to answer it. An older lady with bright red hair showing gray at the roots smiled in a very friendly fashion from the doorstep. “You must belong to one of my boys,” the woman said unexpectedly.
“One of your boys?” Kathleen repeated in confusion.
“Oh, my, yes. My Danny and Philly. Much older than me, of course, but still my boys. I’m Bernice, their neighbor these past … oh … more than twenty years. Nearly thirty, now, in fact.” The woman shook her head sadly, then reached out to take Kathleen’s hand and pat it gently between her own. “You must feel their loss even more keenly than I do.” And then somehow the woman was coming into the house, though Kathleen could not remember having invited her by word or by gesture. Bernice boldly went into the kitchen and made herself a glass of Ribena, then commented softly, “Oh. Someone closed the cabinets. Was that you?”
Kathleen nodded. “I don’t know why they were all open; perhaps a flaw in the construction? But seeing them all open like that bothered me, so I closed them. Why do you ask?”
Bernice smiled sadly. “It always bothered Dan, too. Phil was always leaving the cabinets open, and Dan always chided him about it. They bickered like the old married couple they were, you know.” Kathleen was happy to hear her hopes realized: It was Phil Lester with whom her great-uncle had gotten to spend his elder years. But the odd woman had continued speaking, her voice quiet and reverential. “After his dear Philip died, though, I came every day to visit poor Daniel to make sure that he was eating properly. He grieved so deeply, you know. I noticed the open cabinets and asked him about it, and do you know what that sweet boy said? He told me, ‘If the cabinet doors are open, then I feel like Phil might still be in the house, so I daren’t close them or face the fact that he is truly gone.’ Of course, he himself was gone not long after. Couldn’t live without his love, I think. They were the closest two people I’ve ever known, those two.”
Feeling a sudden upwelling of affection for this woman who had apparently cared deeply for the two men Kathleen had only begun to know through the letters, she smiled and said, “I’m Kathleen Banks, Daniel Howell’s great-niece. I didn’t know him well, and I didn’t know Philip Lester at all, so I would love to hear stories about them. I do wish I’d had the chance to know them before they died.”
Bernice looked Kathleen up and down and replied tartly, “Looks to me like you had at least forty years of opportunity, missy. It’s a mite late to be regretting now.”
Kathleen blushed, feeling as if she needed to explain herself to a woman she’d never even met before 10 minutes ago. “Great-Uncle Dan was estranged from the family my entire life, and I didn’t even know that Philip Lester existed until I began reading his letters today. My family told me that Great-Uncle Dan lived with another Army pensioner to help pay the rent, but that was obviously a lie. Given the way my family seems to have treated him, I don’t know if he would even have been open to knowing me.”
Bernice put her hands on her sizeable hips and shook her head in disbelief. “Well, of course he would have, child! It was only his own family that wouldn’t have him! Or, at least, that’s what dear Philly told me over tea one time when Dan was away. His mother’s funeral, I think it was, and Phil said it was one of the few times the family would even let him near. But of course Phil could not go with him. Danny never talked about his family, but I know Phil hurt for him.”
Kathleen frowned deeply. “I didn’t know,” she told Bernice. “No one ever talked about him, and I guess I was just busy with my own life, and I never thought…”
“Yes, yes,” Bernice interrupted her brusquely. “None of you ever thought of him. But that boy still had a family that loved him.”
Kathleen wanted to ask what family Bernice was referring to, but Bernice had walked up to a photo on the wall and smiled broadly at it. “Oh, those dogs. They loved those dogs. They’ve been gone 10 years or so now, but sweet Danny and Philly kept their photo on the wall.” Kathleen went to look and saw a photograph of two very happy-looking corgis with tongues lolling in doggy smiles at the camera. “The boys walked those dogs twice a day, every day, and it was often the only time they left the house. They liked their own company, you know—didn’t go out much. If I hadn’t stopped by so often to bring them proper food, they would have had pizza delivered every night.”
Kathleen glanced guiltily at the kitchen table, where her pizza still sat a safe distance from Dan’s pile of keepsakes.
“Oh,” Bernice breathed, having followed Kathleen’s glance toward the table. “Dan’s box of memories. He went through that every day near the end. I can only imagine the things he loved deeply enough to save all those years and bring out constantly during those final days.” She sighed, sniffed, and quickly wiped a hand across one of her eyes. She cleared her throat and added, “Well, I suppose it’s only fair that someone from his family be permitted to read the things he held most dear, though the whole lot should most likely be given to those what loved him when you’re finished.” Bernice gave her a steely-eyed glance.
“I think I’ve been coming to love him by seeing him through Phil’s eyes,” Kathleen admitted. “I wish so very much that I hadn’t lost a chance I never even knew I had. He seems like a really lovely person.”
Bernice laughed. “Oh, he was a crotchety old goat much of the time, unlike his sweet Philly, but that Dan had a heart of gold under all that bluster. I do wish you had gotten to know him, as you seem like you might be one of his few relations that might have brought him joy.” Bernice paused. “As long as you loved Phil equally, of course. There was no Dan without Phil, no Phil without Dan. They were a matched pair, and you wouldn’t have gotten a second glance from your great-uncle if you didn’t accept that Phil meant the world to him.”
Kathleen felt tears sting her eyes. “I think that may be why he became so estranged from the family. I think there may have been family members who couldn’t accept their relationship. That’s my guess, anyway. But I can promise you this: If I had ever gotten to meet the Phil Lester who wrote those letters, I would have hugged him even more tightly than my own Great-Uncle Dan. I feel as if prejudice within my own family stole them both from my life, never giving me the opportunity to know them.”
“Oh, pooh!” said Bernice with a dismissive hand gesture. “They wouldn’t have wanted much company anyway! They liked to be on their own, in their own little world, just the two of them.” She seemed to see something in Kathleen’s face and added, “But if you ever want to hear stories about them, get to know them a bit after the fact, you come visit me any time you like. I live just next door at number 18.” Bernice went to wash out her Ribena glass and left it upside down in the dish drainer. “I should be getting home now. I just wanted to see who was over here, since I saw the light on and got curious.” She stepped close and shocked Kathleen by kissing her lightly on the cheek. “You seem a sweet girl. Come see me anytime you’d like to hear about your uncles, because I loved those boys dearly and will never tire telling stories about them.” She smiled sadly again, gave Kathleen another quick kiss on the cheek, and then opened the door and left without another word.
Stunned, Kathleen sat down again at the table. The congealed pizza no longer looked remotely appetizing, and she hated seeing it so close to those delicate and precious documents her great-uncle had saved so carefully. She put the remaining pizza in the refrigerator, knowing that she would be returning tomorrow and might be willing to snack on it then.
Just a couple more letters, she told herself. Maybe two more, then she would head home. There was still plenty of time before the kids needed to go to bed, and Kathleen didn’t want to leave quite yet, not after that emotional conversation with the neighbor.
-
31 December 1939
My love,
I was, of course, distraught to see you leave so soon after that most precious moment, but I know that you must spend part of the festive season with your own family. I cannot have your attention every moment of every day, no matter how much I may desire it. Please know that you are in my heart and in my thoughts always.
As I write this, I know that I shall see you this evening for our New Year’s Eve broadcast. I will see your lovely brown eyes turn to me and I will know the emotions and the memories behind that glance. We may shake hands or I may rest a hand upon your shoulder, but those small touches contain a multitude of emotions.
We start the new year by turning a beautiful new page. We may find ourselves not in a position to express our feelings as openly as we might like, but we two know the truth and share its inestimable beauty.
Yours most devotedly, Phil
-
Kathleen couldn’t help wondering about “that most precious moment,” and quickly picked up the next envelope, only to find that it did not contain a letter. Or, rather, it contained a form letter with relevant details stamped in ink.
-
NATIONAL SERVICE (ARMED FORCES) ACT, 1939 ENLISTMENT NOTICE Date: 15 JANUARY 1940 Mr. DANIEL JAMES HOWELL
DEAR SIR,
In accordance with the National Service (Armed Forces) Act, 1939, you are called upon for service in the ARMY and are required to present yourself on MONDAY 29 JAN 1940, at 10 a.m., or as early as possible thereafter on that day to:
RINGSTEAD BARRACKS MILL HILL RINGSTEAD DORSET NW7
A Travelling Warrant for your journey is enclosed. Before starting your journey you must exchange the warrant for a ticket at the booking office named on the warrant. If possible, this should be done a day or two before you are due to travel.
A Postal Order for 4s, in respect of advance of service pay, is also enclosed. Uniform and personal kit will be issued to you after joining H.M. Forces. Any kit that you take with you should not exceed an overcoat, change of clothes, stout pair of boots, and personal kit, such as razor, hair brush, tooth brush, soap and towel.
Immediately on receipt of this notice, you should inform your employer of the date upon which you are required to report for service.
Yours faithfully, James Alistair Davies Manager.
-
Kathleen found herself almost physically ill at the phrasing of the closing of the letter. “Yours faithfully”? Among all these letters from the truly faithful Phil Lester, a bureaucratic form from the British Army sending Daniel Howell off to World War II with a “Yours faithfully” made Kathleen nearly lose the pizza she’d eaten earlier.
She decided this was an excellent time to go home to the warm arms of her loving husband, who wouldn’t mind if she cried a little bit over events of decades past.
******
[ Continue to Chapter 5 ]
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thewayshefeels1 · 6 years
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The first Breakup
Two words; one name, a million different emotions. If you asked me to describe how he makes me feel, the only word to sum it up is speechless. I can’t believe this is it; that this is really the end. We both saw it coming. We have to let each other go but we keep holding back, in fear we are not strong enough, so we stay in the battlefield. It won’t be easy but it was hard to begin with. It’d be easier if I could erase all the memories; the times I felt like I was floating and the times I felt buried alive.
I think of the day I met him… the panic attack that transpired before I left my house and the pep talk I gave myself to survive the night. The positive affirmations I repeated in hopes that it would somehow work out. Feeling I was on top of the world when he was across from me. The rush when I realized I’d never experienced such a thing with such a boy and hoping he would come back. I remember the chill in the air, the warmth of his car. How crazy I was about him from the get-go. How I would do anything to go back. That first time feeling of falling in love; the most powerful drug there is. Not getting any sleep but not caring; I was full of energy due to the adrenaline. The way his big brown eyes would glow and his smile would make his entire face light up. How I was scared to death of how I felt. How I was too focused on sucking in my stomach and hoping my hair was in place. Complaining to mom that I’d go the whole week with clear skin but would wake up with a zit the size of Mount Everest the day I’d see him; convinced he wouldn’t want anything to do with me. I remember waking up for the first time in a LONG time with a smile on my face. Blasting love songs in my car and having something to look forward to. When he texted me after he drove me home the first night saying he had a good time and spazzing out, clutching my phone to my chest crying…”god is good”. Drawing hearts in my notebook and writing poems during class. I think of how fearless I felt with him, how nothing else mattered. How I would ask Dina if she saw him at work and thought she was the best sister ever since she introduced us. He was everything I wanted. He talked about his life which seemed so interesting. He opened up about his insecurities. We were in his car and he told me he was too shy to go up to girls in fear of rejection. I remember thinking he was nuts. I lead him the wrong way so it would take longer to drive me home, I remember doing what my book told me, “be a good listener, smile and laugh, keep eye contact, have confident body language and touch whenever possible.” He spoke of past loves, I didn’t really mention mine. He said his ex-cheated with his friend and he hasn’t dated since. What sort of fool would break his heart? I thought. I cried a little for him. I remember not shutting up about him to my friends. I told my therapist how amazing he was and everything I dreamed. She told me to not get my hopes up and I shouldn’t be dating since I was just with Dan 2 months ago. I knew this was true. I had never gone such a short amount of time not being single. I’m used to 2 YEAR intervals, not 2 months. But he hadn’t lost interest in me [yet] and it was too late. He stole my heart before I could stop it. I think of weeping, assuming I wasn’t good enough and how beautiful his ex-girlfriend was. How I showed her picture to my coworkers (like a creep) and said what in god’s name is he doing with me? I didn’t want to be a downgrade. “You have to try harder” I thought. “Guys like him don’t go for girls like you, he’ll find someone better” I convinced myself. I think of how we kissed outside my house and felt fireworks in my heart. All the times it hadn’t worked out in the past were worth it because he was a dream come true. I couldn’t let him see the REAL me. I tried hard to resist… I tried so bad but fell head over heels. He is one in a million that’s for sure. We went to Dave and busters and I remember feeling pretty. We sat across each other and he asked if I felt self-conscious and I’d say yes and so would he. I remember telling mom how funny he was and she would laugh. He showed me pictures of his family and said he told them about me. I tried to seem less excited than I was. “That’s a good sign” I thought to myself. I remember seeing a girl from my job and felt so fortunate to be by his side. I remember trying to take in every exquisite detail of his face and hoping he wouldn’t see me staring from the passenger seat. I remember the nights we talked on the phone while he was at work (this was new to me). He took me places I’d never been, he made me feel alive. I didn’t want to be just another girl. I remember being terrified; I hardly knew him and it was already risky. “Back out now while you can. If you leave now then you won’t get hurt” I told myself. I couldn’t… I wanted to but I couldn’t. I think of night’s facetiming, I don’t remember the first time but I’m sure I was mortified. I remember hearing his text tone go off and feeling like I had a heart arrhythmia. I remember going to 7-11 and trying blue Gatorade for the first time. I drank from his bottle and later kept the wrapper (weird). He bought us movie tickets prior to save seats and nobody ever did that before. I wanted to cry because for once someone was treating me like I was worth something. I remember trying to hurry up in the bathroom when he was waiting but wanting to fix my hair and feeling rushed. And when I got out, seeing a tall, dark, handsome guy waiting for ME... it couldn’t be real.
So here I am once again writing about some dude that drove me to insanity. He should’ve come with a warning label “warning: I will draw you in, you will not be able to leave, you will fall in love, proceed with caution.” I can’t say no to this boy. Until the other day… when my fantasy was shattered, when my dreams fell apart, when I finally decided to get my head out my ass. I told him to not try and figure me out, I warned him I would let him down. I suppose neither of us wanted to be right about each other. I am furious, angry because it is not fair. It doesn’t have to be this way. Why can’t I have him? I’ve cried so many nights, so many tears on this one human. I didn’t know how much pain you could feel, grieving for the loss of someone who is still alive. I love him so much, but I need to love myself more. I don’t know how to do that. How can someone feel so right and wrong at the same time? I would look into his eyes sometimes and not know what I was looking at. The same eyes that warmed my heart, the eyes I lost myself in; turned into black stones. Nothing was there. I was hurting and he didn’t care. Or did he? I would be dying inside and want him to notice. “Can you tell I’m lying? Can you tell I’m pretending to be ok?” I wanted him to call me on my bluff, say no you’re not alright and see through my fake smile. But he spoke to me with words while I spoke to him through feelings. I thought I could see his soul, but on rare occasion did he care enough to notice mine. By then it’d already been too late. This imaginary love story I have in my mind is holding me back. There are no happy endings, no fairytales here. Prince charming is never going to sweep me off my feet and carry me to a faraway land. It is safer to be alone. I try to make myself feel better by telling myself that at one time I didn’t know him. This time last year I was living without him. But I’d just be in denial if I kept saying that to myself, trying to convince myself it didn’t matter. I wanted to stay by his side. I wanted to pick him up when he fell and comfort him when he needed somebody to hold. I wanted to be that person to make him strong when he was feeling weak. I wanted to help him breathe in a world so suffocating. Be that one special person for him… I wanted to make it. I didn’t want to be the one that got away. Another failed relationship, just another statistic, another one of his exes. I wanted to be the one. I said this once and I’ll say it again, some people are meant to be alone. It’s better to lose him now than five years down the road anyway. That’s the only way I can think about it that makes me feel better. The pain feels like torture now yet it would’ve been unbearable if it went on any longer. He told me I am strong, but I’m one of the weakest people I know. My whole life is a lie, love is a foreign concept to me. I hope one day he finds out what love really means. He said I make him feel like a villain. When a person tells you that you hurt them, you don’t get to decide you didn’t. Maybe we just need things we both cannot give each other. Perhaps we were only kidding ourselves. I told him that chaos isn’t passion, destruction of the heart isn’t beautiful. Love isn’t painful, love doesn’t equate with arguments, negativity, tension, selfishness or toxicity. I don’t know much about love but I’ve loved enough in my life to know love is about being supportive, considerate and reliable. Why wait until you are let down to tell the truth? He feels I threw him away. He said “you’re willing to throw away all we have?!” These words alone says he doesn’t know how much he means to me. You can love someone and let them go. I did everything he ever asked. You can let someone go and still have your heart broken. Why is it only the one who is left who's allowed to feel pain? Does the one who made the decision to leave not deserve to feel abandoned? People will only treat you how they feel about themselves. When I look at him I see someone who acts like he has it all together but has deep, emotional scars. I’m not sure if he knows who he truly is. I sure as hell don’t know who I am but at least I’m trying; but when you aren’t willing to dig deeper, to uncover the lies we tell ourselves (or others have told us) and strip away the layers, then you will never grow, you will never heal. You must take off the mask long enough to be honest with the person looking back at you; kill the denial which exists as a defense mechanism protecting our ego. He pointed out he lost 20 pounds during our relationship. How could our love be pure if we both destroyed each other? I never meant to hurt him; I didn’t want to put him through the hell in which I lived. I think of how lost I’m going to feel without him. I tried to make him happy, but is that even possible if I can’t make myself happy? Last night I felt so empty, I wished he was with me, I ached for him, feeling shattered and bruised in a state of confusion. If I ever made him feel neglected, unhappy, taken for granted, I need to ask for forgiveness. I know that would bring up old feelings. I told him we bring all our old baggage and past into our new relationships. However, only if haven’t settled those issues and worked on them. If I need to lose him in order for him to find himself, then so be it. If I can’t be with him so that he can have better things then I accept that. I will not be selfish and prevent any good from entering his life. I wish I could be part of that but I would never want to be a negative source of energy that inhibits the flow of love into someone whom I care abouts life. I can’t allow us to break each other to keep us together. One of the things I loved most about him is that I didn’t have to be normal around him; he enjoyed my madness [to an extent] and I enjoyed his [to a point also]. We didn’t force each other to “be normal” we could be ourselves and I appreciated that. So tomorrow will be the final goodbye. Seeing him is like a reset button, I fall in love all over again. It never took much to love him, but it took everything to leave him. Why does it feel impossible to let him go? It sucks because there are songs I can’t listen to anymore without hearing him, places I can’t go without seeing him. The hardest part is to stop trying to put the pieces back together and just let it go. But how do you just walk away from someone you tried to desperately hold on to? Trying to force life into a dead thing is painful and frustrating. My wish for him is that his strength carries him through; that eventually he will love himself and will let go of the need for control. It will outweigh his resentment and lead him on the path to self-discovery. He is worth it to me, but he most importantly owes it to himself. I’ve learned you can’t fix people and there’s no use trying to save them, all you can do is love them, pray for them, be there for them. I hope someday he will see himself the same way I do when I look at him. You can’t have a relationship with someone hoping they’ll “come around”. You have to be willing to commit to them, as they are with no expectations. I tried to protect my heart but he managed to get in somehow. If I want somebody to love I will have to become the own love of my life. The only person you owe anything to is yourself; we are all we ever need. You can’t be everything to anyone if you are nothing to yourself.
So when I think of him I think of how badly I wanted him to be my success story and happy ending. But in a way I think he is... I learned no one person defines you, they only compliment. And you can’t be with somebody just because you are scared at the thought of being ruined without them. The whole point of a relationship is to make each other better, enjoy one another’s company, and support each other when they need it most. While a huge part of me is crumbling inside screaming “don’t go, don’t leave me, why?! I was counting on us, we were supposed to be together.” Another part says “I hope we meet again when were both better. I pray we still end up together.”
“I saw that you were perfect and so I loved you. Then I saw that you were not perfect and I loved you even more”
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thewingedwolf · 6 years
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Maybe this is just my really weird interpretation of Gabe, but I feel like a lot of the genius annotations on Next to Normal aren't very fair to him. I tend to think of him as two-sided, because he represents two things: Diana's (and Dan's, and Natalie's for that matter, and eventually even a bit Henry's) mental illness and Diana's (and Dan's and Natalie's) trauma. And so he serves two different functions.
Like, obviously he's incredibly destructive and horrific - he's a physical (so to speak) embodiment of Diana's mental illness and trauma, and *literally* talks her into attempting suicide - but he doesn't always come across as particularly malevolent.
All the annotations on Aftershocks and I Am the One Reprise involve comments like "he's trying to gain his control back" and "he's trying to hurt them" and I don't doubt that that's part of his desire, speaking as their mental illnesses but the trauma side seems less intent on destruction and more intent on making itself known. And I'm sure some people are sitting there like uuuuuuuuh, that's pretty destructive, and yeah it can be, but it's also about *acknowledging* that the trauma exists. When it comes to aftershocks like -  Dr. Madden had good intentions and Dan's were mostly good, but Dan's intentions were also very bad. He's not trying to find a healthy way to deal with Diana's trauma. He's looking to repress it because it's easier, because he doesn't want to deal, because he wants his Perfect Life and while he refuses to give up on Diana because he does genuinely love her, he is also incredibly destructive to her happiness at multiple points in the musical because his need to Not Deal tends to take precedence over Diana's need to heal. 
Like. She does not want the ECT and Dan guilts her into it. And then when she loses her memory he literally says "forget the things we should" because he doesn't want her to properly cope with her trauma, he straight up wants her to forget it. 
That's not healthy. It's not realistic. It's erasing a HUGE part of who Diana is - Gabe says he's still there in her soul, and yes its partially that there is no cure, she's always going to be mentally ill, but also HER SON AND HIS DEATH WILL ALWAYS BE THERE. That's not inherently a bad thing. It's not bad to like, feel things, to feel sadness. Dan doesn't want her to feel any sadness whatsoever, ever, at any point in time. This is a very different want than wanting her to be happy.
Aftershocks is Gabe probably at his most angry (barring maybe I'm Alive reprise) and most helpful. He's very menacing but he's making himself known because Diana needs to make completely informed choices when it comes to her own mental health. She needs all the facts, someone to tell her that her feelings are rooted in something, that all this sickness stems from *somewhere* and she has a right to examine it in the way she wants to, and she's not getting that validation and support from Dan (see: "I remember that's his way" and "I don't know, i don't know, where the fucking pieces go") so Gabe, embodying her trauma, steps up to give her that ("but with nothing to remember is there nothing left to grieve"). Because the fact that he exists means something is wrong. His very existence and his hold on the family means something happened, and as Act 2 goes on, Diana holds onto that - she is not ok because something bad has happened to her, and Gabe reminds her of that something bad. It's an interesting play on "you're not crazy if they're actually out to get you" because something is out to get Diana and she's not crazy, but also, something is out to get Diana and it made her fucking crazy.
And I'm being hard on Dan bc he oversteps A LOT during the events of this musical in some pretty disgusting ways but listen - he does a lot of projecting because he is also mentally ill. He doesn't want Diana to feel sad because he doesn't want to feel sad himself. If Diana can forget Gabe, he can too. I feel for him, very much, because I imagine a lot of his reactions come from a place of deep denial and probably some internalized ableism crap. But his actions still do a lot of harm to Diana and Natalie and /himself/ and if I ever met him i would probably kick him in the shins and then immediately hook him up with a therapist and some good medication. He is not any more healed than Diana is. And then we get to I Am The One reprise and just - the annotations are "he's sucking their life force and now that Diana is gone he's going to go after Dan" and "Gabe gains power and control over Dan" but I think that is a GROSS oversimplification. Yeah the song is a bit destructive, because Dan is alone, Dan is crushed (the line "like you never knew who I am" speaks a lot to how much of a facade he's put on in the name of protecting Diana and Keeping Things Good. They never got to be a ~normal~ couple like he wanted because they had Gabe so fast, and then he died, and Diana got sicker and sicker and never got better), and here comes Gabe to swoop in and taunt him and in general be a huge dick. Because. He's Mental Illness. Dan is at a weak point, so Gabe comes calling. But when they sing together, Gabe takes on a much more helpful feel and it's because HE IS EVIDENCE OF TRAUMA. So finally, finally, Dan is admitting that he has been struggling, that he is sick just like his wife, that he needs help, because a terrible thing happened and he never dealt with it. But like. The annotations refuse to acknowledge that Gabe can be helpful while still being mental illness? They go straight to "Gabe is a spirit and he's helping his father" but like. Gabe's not a spirit (I get why you would read it that way but. He's not). He is terrifying because Dan is devastated at this point, upset enough that he'll acknowledge Gabe's existence - and in a way where you're going "holy fuck could he see Gabe this whole time" - but also vaguely helpful because he's demanding his father finally take a step back and grieve.
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oneshul · 6 years
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Emor: The Blasphemer Speaks
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“A certain man came out among the Israelites, one whose mother was Israelite and whose father was Egyptian. And the man fought with another man in the camp, who was pure Israelite. The half-breed cursed, using the Name of GOD blasphemously. They brought him before Moses. The half-breed’s mother’s name was Shulamith bat Dibri, of the Tribe of Dan. The Israelite Peace Officers placed the half-breed under guard, until the LORD would clarify His decision to them, regarding the blasphemous half-breed.
“And the Lord spoke unto Moses, saying, ‘Take the blasphemer outside the camp, and let all who heard him curse lay their hands on his head. And then, let the entire Community stone him to death.
“And God said to Moses, ‘To the Israelite people speak thusly: “Anyone who curses his God shall be guilty…and shall be put to death.”’ …And they took the half-breed, the blasphemer, outside the camp, and threw stones at him until he died. The Israelites did as the Lord had commanded Moses. And the nation had peace.”
--Lev. 24: 10-14, 23 (translation mine)
 I, the Stranger, walked through the desert night and the chilly air, on my way to the camp of the Israelites. A silver slipper of a moon shone above, and the sandy path glowed under its pallid light. I thought of Sefkhet, the Egyptian moon-goddess—having lived in Egypt for about four hundred years, many of us were familiar with their gods. She was deity of the stars and of time; surely she would help our people in their struggles through the wilderness. For, truly, the Wilderness kills its inhabitants; it saps their strength, and steals their very soul.
Moses was growing old; it was difficult for him to go out and to come in. His brother Aaron was still grieving the loss of his two boys, Nadav and Avihu, who had been taken from him so suddenly. He offered the sacrifices, yes; but he did them in a mechanical fashion; there was no passion, much less spirituality, in it. There was still Miriam, the eldest, and most enthusiastic for love of God and of leadership—but she was a mere woman, and most of the men would never listen to her.
I trudged through the Wilderness, alone with my thoughts of gods and men. But then, I suddenly saw him out of the corner of my eye—a thin figure, almost lost in the shadows, racing about with such speed that I found him difficult to track. The darkness of the desert night did not help.
Was he friend or foe? I asked myself, and my hand tightened on the handle of the bronze dagger which I carried.
At last, the figure slowed down somewhat, and, heart in my mouth, I hailed him, there amid the wilderness gloom.
“You there, friend,” I began, “Who and what are you, and from where do you hail? Come closer, slowly, or I will skewer you on my blade.”
The figure looked at me directly; a ray of moonlight lit up his face. I shrank back, beholding a visage so tragic and full of horror. I wished I had let him go his way in peace—though I doubted whether peace could ever come to any creature who looked so grievously saddened. Still, he advanced slowly towards me, making no sound. I drew my knife, holding it so that the moonlight reflected off the blade.
“Come forward, holding your empty hands before you,” I commanded, “for I do not like either your looks or manners.”
The spectre threw back his head and laughed—such maddened, screaming laughter as I had never before heard in my life.Nor did I wish to ever hear it again. He seemed to be laughing and crying, both together.
“You cannot hurt me, Mortal,” he said, “for I am—you must believe me!— a suffering spirit—and I am (here he grinned, like a long-dead skull) I am already dead.”
Dead? I wondered, and, as though it had a mind of its own, my knife slid back into its belt-sheath. My hands were cold; I began to tremble all over.
“If you are, as you say, dead,” I said to him—or it—“How comest it that you are alive, and wandering the earth? Why are you not in Sheol, the Place of Silence, where all the spirits of the dead go, whether killed in battle, or dying, full of years, within their tents?”
The spectre stopped, considered my question, and answered me: “I am a wandering spirit, doomed to the flames of Hell—yes, such a place exists!—whose lord, Azazel, commands us to ascend to the Upper World every evening. Here, we gather twigs and branches to stoke its flames. I never rest: by day, I suffer all the torments of Hell, and, by night, I rush about and gather twigs, until the first cock-crow.”
“What was your crime, O Spirit who lived and is now dead?” I asked him, “And why did you go to Hell and not Sheol?”
“I am he of whom you have heard,” said the Spirit, grimly. “I am the spirit of the Egyptian-Hebrew half-breed. They accused me of cursing another man, most blasphemously, in the Name of God. Therefore, both God and Moses decreed that I should die by stoning.”
“That is a gruesome death,” I commiserated.
He nodded. “It is horrific,” he agreed, “I still can feel the rocks hitting my innocent flesh. I did not deserve it. It happened during a fight. My Israelite foe had pushed and insulted me—what was I to do, except strike him, to save my honor? More: the coward was calling out to his brothers and friends to come and hurt me further.”
“That is not what I heard,” I answered, “for I have read the text of your hearing and trial.”
“It is false,” said the spirit, “and I believe that it was altered, to preserve the honor of Israel, and intending to show why a full Israelite is both stronger and more upright than a blasphemous half-breed.”
He began to cry. “What crime did I commit, save that of being born to an Egyptian man and an Israelite woman? Is there no place for me among the people of Israel? All my life I have had to deal with prejudice. Even on my day of death, my dearest friend Shemura bat Elitsafan, a Danite like myself, were planning to marry.”
“Did her family accept you?” I asked, my heart opening up to this unfortunate spirit.
The Spirit shook his head. “No,” he said, “for they said, ‘Away with you, Half-breed! Our daughter will never have bastard children with you. Go and marry your own kind—go back to Egypt!” The tears rolled down his bony cheeks, from eyes that glowed like fire in the desert darkness. “How can I return to Egypt? It is not my home. I have lived all of my life among my people, Israel.”
“Can such prejudice exist among a people such as ours, who were persecuted for four hundred years in Egyptian slavery?” I asked.
“My time in Hell has made me many friends—desperate victims like myself,” said the spirit, gnashing his teeth, “and I have learned that such hatred among people is not confined to Israel. Everywhere, it seems, humanity finds a reason to gossip, and even attack, those who are different.”
“Will this ever change, or is it in Man’s nature to hate?” I asked, “How can we stop it?”
He stared at me—such a gaze as froze my soul. “My time is done on earth, Stranger,” he said, sadly, “but you are still alive. You can make a difference.Begin, NOW.”
And he vanished, leaving me here, with a mission to perform. Will you join me, Friend?
Rabbi David Hartley Mark is from New York City’s Lower East Side. He attended Yeshiva University, the City University of NY Graduate Center for English Literature, and received semicha at the Academy for Jewish Religion. He currently teaches English at Everglades University in Boca Raton, FL, and has a Shabbat pulpit at Temple Sholom of Pompano Beach. His literary tastes run to Isaac Bashevis Singer, Stephen King, King David, Kohelet, Christopher Marlowe, and the Harlem Renaissance.
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womenofcolor15 · 4 years
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Rep. Elijah Cummings’ Wife Maya Thanks Everyone For Prayers After Successful Double Mastectomy, Preps To Run For Husband's Seat + Republican Woman Who Attacked Cummings Runs For His Seat Too
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Maya Rockeymoore Cummings – the widow of late congressman Elijah Cummings – thanks everyone for the outpouring of love following a successful double mastectomy. Yes, she still plans on running for her late husband’s Congressional seat. And so is Republican/Trump supporter Kimberly Klacik. More inside…
On the same day Maya Rockeymoore Cummings announced to run to fill out the remainder of her late husband/ Maryland Congressman Elijah E. Cummings’ term in Congress, she announced she was undergoing a preventative double mastectomy at John Hopkins Hospital. The surgery was a success and she’s now recovering before she hops back on the campaign trail for her late husband's 7th Congressional District seat.
During her announcement, the 48-year-old revealed her mother died of stage 4 breast cancer in 2015. Last year, her younger sister was diagnosed with stage 2 breast cancer and she decided to undergo a double mastectomy as a pre-emptive measure. She also said she had a good friend who was under the age of 40 recently die from the disease.
Before Cummings’ passing, she said he went with her to her doctor’s appointment and they decided she would go through with the preventative surgery and that the surgery date was scheduled long before her husband’s death. After the surgery (that went down last Friday), she sent an email out, revealing the surgery was a success. We can't even imagine the strength this takes, especially while grieving.
  Dr. Maya Rockeymoore Cummings recovering after a successful surgery on Friday. She recently announced on the Rachel Maddow Show that she would enter the race for U.S. House of Representatives Maryland's 7th District, a seat held by her late husband Congressman Elijah Cummings. pic.twitter.com/rYxnrqWxjB
— SexMoneyPower (@SexMoneyPower) November 16, 2019
   Yesterday, she hopped on Instagram to thank everyone for the outpouring of love, support, and prayers she received:
          View this post on Instagram
                  My name is Maya Rockeymoore Cummings. I want to thank everyone for their prayers and well wishes during my recent preventative double mastectomy. I am doing well and my heart is full from the overwhelming support I have received. One in 8 women and 1 in 1,000 men are at risk of getting breast cancer in their lifetimes. Unfortunately, my mother died of breast cancer and my sister was diagnosed with it last year. We must take charge of our health. That’s why I urge you to conduct regular self exams, get an annual mammogram, and lead healthy lifestyles and encourage others to do so as well. Please visit Susan G Komen at Komen.org and the Black Women’s Health Imperatice at bwhi.org for more information. It’s time to save more lives. #breastcancerawareness #breastcancerawarenessmonth #breastcancer #mastectomy #mastectomyrecovery #doublemastectomy #prevention #cancerprevention #curecancer #women #blackwomen #komenforthecure #komen #blackwomenshealthimperative #health #healthy
A post shared by Maya Rockeymoore Cummings (@rockeymoorecummings) on Nov 21, 2019 at 5:41am PST
"My name is Maya Rockeymoore Cummings. I want to thank everyone for their prayers and well wishes during my recent preventative double mastectomy. I am doing well and my heart is full from the overwhelming support I have received," she captioned a picture of herself. She then encouraged others (women and men) to take charge of their health and get screened.
"We must take charge of our health. That’s why I urge you to conduct regular self exams, get an annual mammogram, and lead healthy lifestyles and encourage others to do so as well," she said.
Maya plans on getting back to business once she's fully recovered.
"Most importantly, we are so glad that Maya is healthy and recovering, and she’s looking forward to getting back on the campaign trail in a few weeks," Tucker Cavanagh, Cummings's campaign manager, said in a statement.
Congressman Cummings passed away on October 17th. He was 68-years-old. Elijah and Maya tied the knot in 2009. She was elected chairwoman of the Maryland Democratic Party in December 2018. She resigned the party chair position to clear the way for her congressional run.
Thank God she's on the road to recovery as there are plenty of folks gunning for Rep. Elijah Cummings' (D-MD) congressional seat, including Republican/Trump supporter Kimberly Klacik.
    Did you donate $250 & over to my campaign? I’ll be giving you a call tomorrow. I am truly thankful for the support & want to thank you personally.
All donors will receive something in the mail from me soon. Every penny means the to me!https://t.co/sDJbWLtWbr to donate pic.twitter.com/5imbR23x71
— Kimberly Klacik (@kimKBaltimore) November 21, 2019
Rising Republican strategist Kimberly Klacik announced that she will run for the late Rep. Elijah Cummings' congressional seat. The unmitigated gall. She’s the Baltimore County Republican official who put up social media posts/videos about trash in West Baltimore that prompted President Trump to verbally attack Rep. Cummings. Trump used her videos during his attacks against the city.
The 37-year-old filed for the special election in the 7th Congressional District, a seat Cummings held for more than two decades. Right after making her announcement, she quickly hopped on Twitter with claims that the "left" is attacking her.
  I have not been an announced candidate for more than 2 hours and the far left is already attacking me. I need your help now more than ever. Baltimore deserves better https://t.co/sDJbWLtWbr https://t.co/wvZKmUAgiv
— Kimberly Klacik (@kimKBaltimore) November 9, 2019
Girl...
The list of hopefuls is jammed packed with 32 candidates (24 Democrats & 8 Republicans) all fighting to succeed Cummings. There are eight females running, however, political analyst John Dedie predicts Maya Rockeymoore Cummings has the best shot at winning.
Here's the list of candidates below (via the Baltimore Sun):
Among the other Democrats running are Maya Rockeymoore Cummings, Cummings’ widow and former chairwoman of the Maryland Democratic Party; state House Majority Whip Talmadge Branch; longtime Cummings staff member Harry Spikes; Del. Terri L. Hill, a physician; international public health professional T. Dan Baker; pulmonologist Dr. Mark Gosnell; and community activist Saafir Rabb.
Del. Jay Jalisi of Baltimore County was among the last-minute filers, smiling for pictures in the Maryland State Board of Elections office in Annapolis as he signed his paperwork Nov. 20.
The Republican candidates include Kimberly Klacik, who runs a nonprofit and is a member of a county Republican Central Committee; former 2nd Congressional candidate Liz Matory; grassroots activist and businesswoman Reba A. Hawkins; businessman Ray Bly; and William T. Newton, a member of the Baltimore County Republican Central Committee.
The other listed Republicans are Christopher Anderson of Baltimore, James C. Arnold of Baltimore County and Brian L. Brown of Montgomery County.
The other Democrats are Alicia D. Brown of Baltimore County, Anthony Carter Sr. of Baltimore, Matko Lee Chullin III of Baltimore County, Jay Fred Cohen of Howard County, Nathaniel M. Costley Sr. of Carroll County, Jermyn Davidson of Charles County, Darryl Gonzalez of Carroll County, Leslie E. Grant of Baltimore County, Dan L. Hiegel of Baltimore, Paul V. Konka of Baltimore County, Adrian Petrus of Prince George’s County, Charles U. Smith of Baltimore and Charles Stokes of Baltimore County.
The candidates will run in a special primary election in the 7th Congressional District. The primary is set for February 4th and the general election will go down April 28th.
Don't let us down, Maryland!
  Photo: Getty
[Read More ...] source http://theybf.com/2019/11/22/elijah-cummings%E2%80%99-wife-maya-thanks-everyone-for-prayers-after-successful-double-mastectomy
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ylizam · 7 years
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As I stumble and fumble through a complete inability to write (I am trying to take to heart this advice and get words down, but mostly I keep getting distracted by: cats, Eve Granger, coffee, Eve Granger’s terrible taste in men, cats again, maybe I’m hungry, etc.), I’ve managed to waste time thinking about TV straddling the 1990s, for example (it got loooong so I’m sticking it behind a cut): 
the only Roseanne reboot I’d ever want. Dan fakes his own death because it was the only way he saw out of his marriage that might help take care of Roseanne and the kids (@summervillen and I came up with a whole backstory wherein Becky doesn’t come back after running away with Mark, but Roseanne starts bringing home women from work that she calls Becky, it’s all very tragic and whatnot, but Dan makes sure he has life insurance and that it’s set up right and divorce would only cost everyone more money he thinks, so), ends up in Oregon where he does cash jobs, grieves his marriage to Roseanne and eventually meets a biker (her name is Gretchen, goes by Sally, owns the local garage) and is just really starting a serious relationship with her after years of being friends when who should show up at the bar where he’s tending bar but JACKIE!, Jackie who is “finding herself” now that Andy’s grown and off being a hairdresser in Oakland (he crashes with DJ, who is working for a tech startup)(Darlene’s in Chicago where she and David are divorced but friendly coparents; she manages a comic book store that she’s gearing up to buy and still writes and she and David co-write a divorce webcomic and she plays rec basketball)(Becky’s happily married with kids in Florida)(Fred’s super sure that Andy’s gay and keeps trying to make him come out, only Andy’s actually straight)(Roseanne’s getting the mental health help she needs), Jackie who sidles up to the bar and after she gets over her shock yells “Dan Connor, that boy you left me for was FIFTEEN” until he shushes her and pulls her into the back so he can explain, Jackie who ends up in the same small Oregon town, Jackie who is actually bi and doesn’t want to be in a relationship and who only sleeps with people out of town (she finds that Tinder + Portland works for her and she is very happy), anyway the plot is basically Dan and Jackie living their best lives and Jackie getting Dan back in touch with his kids and it is all very wonderful, also everyone rides motorcycles the end.
Kerry Weaver and how much I love her and how many stories about her I want to exist that don’t (as far as I know: I wasn’t in ER fandom and I’m definitely not well-read there--I’ve read a fair bit of Kerry/Susan but that’s really about it--and I’m absolutely afraid to go wading for the good stuff). Because, honestly, I want fic about her being friends (actual friends, not gal pal friends) with Jeanie Boulet (them getting in touch after the end of the series, them emailing and trading gossip and Kerry donating to Jeanie’s HIV clinics and trying to keep it anonymous) and just both of them having happy lives and being friends and maybe at some point Kerry visits Jeanie or vice versa. 
Or Kerry being friends with Serena Campbell because apparently they need to be friends in my head. (And then I was like, “okay, and then Kerry plants the idea that Serena maybe would be happy not returning to the hospital where her daughter died, just a thought, but that doesn’t mean she can’t go back to England and be with Bernie but also not work at the hospital where now she’s the woman whose daughter died there (whose mother died there) because honestly Serena hates being gossiped about and also no one wants to be the person who is known for Terrible Tragedy and so she and Bernie end up living together halfway between Holby and wherever Serena ends up working and kicking ass and eventually they both leave Holby and end up somewhere else in England (because Bernie’s finally got her kids both talking to her at this point, and Serena has Jason who is a part of her heart) and it is much better for both of them also they both continue to get lots of therapy because therapy is good the end.”)
The idea of working somewhere she's just Serena Campbell: Bloody Brilliant Surgeon and Hospital Administrator (nothing wrong in knowing your worth, and as the surrealism of grief slowly shifts she's more and more secure in her acknowledgment of it), and not Serena Campbell: Tragedy is--Her entire body relaxes around the thought, like maybe she'll be able to sleep tonight after all--well it's practically revolutionary. She hadn't realized how much that was weighing on her until it suddenly wasn't the only option. Not the only door. She could return to England (to Jason, to Bernie) and find a job in another hospital.
(Or, yes, I would in fact read some post-series Kerry/Jeanie or Kerry/Susan or look I just really love Kerry Weaver and femslash so of course I would read any of these things.)
In conclusion, I am really not ready for the weekend to be over, but practically over it is. At least the coffee’s set up for the morning and I’ve oatmeal in the fridge and there’s comfort in that.
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John Wick: Chapter 2
For those of you that may have missed John Wick when it released back in April 2015 (nearly 7 months after the US release!), the film signalled the return to true action hero form for Keanu Reeves- and what a surprisingly brilliant film it was! Nearly 2 years on, Reeves is back in John Wick's 'tactical' suit to wreak more havoc on the seedy world of mafia dons, hitmen and gangsters. So, to catch us all up, John Wick: an ex-hitman who had recently lost his wife to a terminal illness, was forced out of retirement to track down the gangsters that killed the puppy she had left him in her memory and who had stolen his precious Mustang. The callous disrespect cannot go unpunished and Wick soon learns these thugs are closely linked to Mob Boss, Viggo Tarasov (Michael Nyqvist). As the film progresses it quickly becomes clear that Wick is a man you do not want to mess with; he is also a man that does not want to get back into the business of being a Hitman, but he must make them pay for what they have done, as he is a grieving man, with nothing left to lose. In this instalment, Wick finally gets his beloved Mustang back and, still reeling from the death of his wife, Helen, is truly ready to fade back into some sense of normalcy. But this state is, of course, shortly lived, when Wick is paid a visit by a former associate, Santino D'Antonio, with nefarious intentions to seize control over a large part of the international assassins' guild. D'Antonio (played by Riccardo Scamarcio), forces Wick's hand by reminding him of the blood oath that he holds over him, the price of which is to assassinate whomever he is instructed to, no questions asked. Little does Wick know, however, that once the oath is honoured and the debt is paid, he is to be targeted by every international assassin in the market for his bounty. But how does John Wick: Chapter 2 fare in comparison to Wick's first cinematic outing? Well, as far as entertainment goes, this one definitely hits the mark in much the same way as the fist! Hugely audacious and certifiably more violent than its predecessor, Chapter 2 takes a much bolder step into the action genre. What is plainly evident, is that John Wick is not great at retiring at all and perhaps, as others have commented along the way, he is addicted to bloody path of vengeance- but really, what else does he have to live for? And what could be more dangerous than a man with nothing left to hold him back? After its opening, the film wastes no time at all plunging us deeper into the particular diegesis of Wick's world, its mythologies, arcane rules and boundaries. This labyrinthine world of assassins is far more rigidly structured, regimented and orderly than we might otherwise think and it's a treat to explore the various layers and inner-workings in such a way. One of the best examples of these appetising details is the introduction of an old-fashioned administrative steno pool of tattooed ladies that handle and process the release of 'hits' and other nasty things that need to get done. There are also several moments of pleasure to be had watching Wick prepare for his various showdowns. Here is a man with incredibly refined flawless tastes and he knows what he wants. The conversation with the weapons Sommelier (Peter Serafinowicz) that is carried out as one, perfectly formed, metaphor for fine dining, is absolutely brilliant! Another highlight is when Wick responds to the question of 'what style?' by his Italian suit tailor, with the one-word response: 'tactical'. Yes, even gorgeous, precisely tailored dinner suits can serve a higher purpose in Wick's world- one of bullet-proof armour! It could be argued that some of the focus of the first film is lost here, with such attention paid to the smaller details of the criminal world, but these details are charming and help to add so much more class to the film, whilst also enabling a natural precursor for moments of humour. All of this lending the story the chance to venture down some fun avenues. Obviously, cinema was created so that we could all marvel at Keanu Reeves' ability to look about two decades younger than his actual age, in the slickest suits and simultaneously slice through people with the same grace as Fred Astaire! Yes, I am clearly a fan of Mr. Reeves, but joking aside, for all its charming craft and flawless style, John Wick: Chapter 2 is undoubtedly, like its predecessor, a showcase for Keanu Reeves: a great actor that has made great films for decades and a man, more importantly, with a sincere love for and skill in the action genre. I don't believe, as great as this series is, that it would be anywhere near as good without Reeves in the titular role. The action truly is second to none and it is obvious that Reeves knows what he's doing when it comes to the martial arts. Over the length of his career, Reeves has trained in such arts as Jiu Jitsu, Wushu, Boxing, Krav Maga, Judo, Karate and many more, so there is no chance of questioning the authenticity of the action in this one. Keanu Reeves was born for action, he was born to play the hero and yes, some have criticised his acting over the years as wooden or stilted, but I find- at least as John Wick, that he plays the grieving, reluctant hitman brilliantly. Having said all of that, Reeves is not the only star that shines brightly in this one. There is the returning cast of Ian McShane as Winston, the Owner of New York City's Continental Hotel, Lance Reddick as the Manager, and the ever-amazing John Leguizamo as Aurelio the mechanic. However the new faces also bring plenty to the table with the likes of Orange is the New Black's, Ruby Rose, as Ares, who manages to be a commanding presence in every scene despite no dialogue whatsoever, the brilliantly talented, Common, as Cassian, who completely nails the silent but deadly assassin mode with such panache that his and Reeves' scenes together light up the film! Finally, there is the superb addition of Laurence Fishburne, as the Bowery King. Indeed, there is no doubt that these two actors have a wonderful rapport between them, I mean, how could they not after their shared history in The Matrix franchise? But Fishburne is powerful in the role with a hint of eccentricity, for good measure, even though his role is a fairly small one, he manages to make quite the impact and I certainly felt those Neo/Morpheus chills! How could I not? It's Neo and Morpheus, people! The only real negative, for me, was how rapid the Ares and Wick fight was. As a Ruby Rose fan, I was anticipating a grander showdown but what I got was one that, sadly, did not last as long as I'd have liked it to, but she definitely has a place in the cinematic action world, no doubt about it! However, I must applaud Director, Chad Stahelski for the superbly choreographed art gallery sequence as that is a sheer work of art in itself! The visual feast that Stahelski and Cinematographer, Dan Laustsen have created is truly sumptuous. Every frame takes advantage of the refined styles of Wick's world, forming a colour palette unique to the action film landscape that gives John Wick: Chapter 2 an artistic quality. These two also know how handsome and physically expressive their leading man is. Often Reeves is the only thing on-screen, his face and body cast in shades of turquoise, jade, and neon pink and the angles of his frame beautifully highlighted in a gorgeous, stylish, yet masculine way. The fight scenes are also quite artful, they are never over-edited and the continuous use of wide shots only serve to further highlight just how much Reeves trained for the physicality of the role. It's safe to say that the violence is never one-dimensional, either, instead frequently oscillating between darkly humorous and even poetic. This chapter is definitely more brutal than the first- but we do get to see Wick's pencil trick- which is a testament to how deadly he really is. Reeves' dialogue may be spare, but his body tells a story of its own, even in the subdued moments and often, he manages to communicate more of a history than some actors do in entire monologues. Indeed, where Ares may be frenetic and Cassian brutal, Wick is elegant and poetic in his violence. Quite frequently it feels like Reeves is creating dance crafted by his skill with the action and violence and I'm hard pressed to think of any other modern action star who manages to be so brutal yet utterly beautiful in equal measure. But, it must be said that Keanu Reeves' talent goes beyond just his undeniable flair as a physical performer in action scenes. John Wick: Chapter 2 highlights the theme that has snaked its way throughout his entire career: loneliness. There is no doubt that Reeves has always been at his best when he has played men that are isolated due to choice and pathology. Wick's struggle to find peace in this dangerous, chaotic and volatile world is actually moving and you desperately want him to succeed in finding it. Here is a man without any real home in the world- emotional or tangible. Yes this is a slick, adrenaline-pumping action flick that will be sure to keep the masses entertained, but John Wick: Chapter 2 is also a moving depiction of how loneliness and grief can warp the best of us. A sharp, ferocious and stylish piece of cinema, John Wick: Chapter 2 is every bit as cool and bloodthirsty as the first. The film oozes sophistication and class and the franchise is probably one of the most artistic and technical we have seen within the Hollywood action genre in recent years- in fact the only other double-hitter that springs to mind is the Indonesian: The Raid (both parts 1 and 2), but John Wick definitely is bridging the gap between the Eastern giants in Martial Arts and the Hollywood mainstream! The door has been left open for a potential Chapter 3, and I know (if it goes ahead), I will definitely be first in line to see it. If it turns out to be anywhere near as good as the first two, then it's bound to be excellent! 4.5/5
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simayaraza42 · 4 years
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Against all odds
Scene 7
Day 2
( its 7 am in the morning Sensei and the boys are still at the hospital... still numb with shock..but a hope still lingers..maybe she will wake up)
Characters
Sensei
Dan
Herman
Kevin
Doctor Marvin
SENSEI: ( looks gently at his students cuddled on a bench , still in their karate wear but look so tired yet strong..he sadly smiles his heart grieving for the woman who is swinging between life and death yet he feels proud to have students who have walked an extra mile to support an absolute stranger) Dan..( he gently awakens one of the boys)
DAN: ( stands up as soon as his eyes open) Oss Sensei! ( he bows with respect)
SENSEI: Son , I think you boys need to go home and rest , I will take care of everything here..you look very tired.
DAN: OSS Sensei, I am.perfectly fine, I will just go change into normal clothes and come back. (He wakes Herman n kevin)
HERMAN: Oss Sensei....sorry I ..ummh can I get you something to drink ?
SENSEI: Oss. Dnt worry about me, you guys go home and rest, and take Kevin with you ..he needs to calm down . And yes ..thankyou so much for making me feel proud of you. (He hugs both the boys , and leaves them.stunned, it's a rare thing for Sensei Jeremy to display affection openly, both Dan and Herman balance tears.)
DAN : Oss Sensei, we cant leave you alone, we love you and it's our duty to stand by your side at this hour of trial.
(This open declaration of love takes alot of courage but for the first time Dan and Herman feel Sensei Jeremy needs to know that the boys not.only respect him but love him as their own father)
SENSEI : (clears his throat) alright ...go change and get yourselves something to eat. See you boys in a while , you will find me in the room with our patient. OSS go safe. (As he turns away, he senses someone touched his hand and turns to see Kevin holding his hand) yes young man?
KEVIN: (Looks at Sensei straight in the eyes then hugs him tight) Sensei pia mimi love u sanaa thankyou oss !
SENSEI JEREMY: (hugs back kevin) asante ... go home now okay? Nenda na ndugu zako ukapumzike. (He turns and walks away quickly this time unable to stop tears from finding it's way out, he quickly wipes his eyes and walks towards the patient's room, as he enters he sees Doctor Marvin )
DOCTOR: Hello Sensei. It's nice to see you here .
SENSEI : Well I kept my word doctor, I have no intention of leaving until the lady awakens... (he looks at the woman on the bed , she shows no sign of life yet her face looks so beautiful like sleeping beauty, despite her injuries)
DOCTOR: Well.... ( he is cut short by a groaning sound, he turns and sees the lady finding her way back to life and quickly walks upto her bed) hello Madam, can you hear me? Hello???
( Riya slowly opens her eyes , unable to make out where she is as she looks around, her eyes meet with Sensei's, their Gaze lock for a few seconds then her eyes falls on the badge of his karate uniform.... suddenly her face drains and she.blacks out again)
SENSEI : she passed out again? Dr. Marvin, she looked at me then she passed out.
Doctor MARVIN: Dnt worry sensei, at least she is out of danger ...I was afraid she might have slipped into a coma but she woke up and that is a good.sign.
SENSEI: I will sit here in the room and wait for her to wake up.
DOCTOR: sure but you can call the nurses if you need anything, I will come back after my rounds are done. Thankyou Sensei. ( he walks away and sensei makes himself comfortable on the nearby couch. Minutes tick by but the lady seems to have no intention of opening her eyes again)
Interval........
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updcbc · 5 years
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March 10, 2019 - “Defining Our Faith in Christ: The Confession of Peter” Matthew 16:13-23
Click READ MORE to read the full sermon.
Introduction
Jesus is the most revered and the worst despised person on earth. This is such a sobering thought. A prophetic word about him was indeed true. When Jesus was a child, his earthly parents, Joseph and Mary, consecrated him before the LORD in the temple in Jerusalem. Simeon was then at the temple courts. He was an elderly and righteous Hebrew who earnestly waited for the coming of the Messiah. When he saw Jesus, he took him in his arms and worshiped God who honored his dream to see the Messiah before he would die. And he declared a revealing prophecy about Jesus.
“This child is destined to cause the falling and rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be spoken against, so that the thoughts of many hearts will be revealed.” (Lk. 2:34b-35a)
Among the Hebrew people, there is a great divide among them between those who embrace Jesus and those who blaspheme him. And among the Gentiles, there is a clear distinction between the wise and the fool for those who love Jesus and from those who hate him. Who really is Jesus? This is a staggering question that unveils the inmost thought and pierces the heart of every human being. We make it more personal. Who really is Jesus to us? This defines our lives and determines our eternal destiny. When Simon Peter followed Jesus to become fisher of men, he set his hope on him as the Messiah. Yet as he walked with him every day, listened to his wise teachings and saw his awesome miracles, he wondered who Jesus really was. Who really was Jesus that even the dead became alive and the wind and the wave obeyed him at his word.      
Jesus set the historic moment of his self disclosure. It took place in Caesaria Philippi after almost three years he had been with his twelve apostles. In a private setting he asked them of who he was as understood by the people and by them as his close disciples (16:13-15). Simon Peter stood up and gave a revealing confession about Jesus (16:16-20). Jesus affirmed his confession and foretold his true mission on earth (16:21-23). The self-disclosure of Jesus was a defining moment for the apostles. At this crucial crossroad we can either follow or abandon Jesus.
 A.  The Defining Question (16:13-15)
Jesus knew that the hour of his departure was near and he must fulfill his work on earth in accordance to the will of his Father in heaven as written in the Scriptures. And the time had come for him to reveal himself to his close disciples. The essence of his mysterious redemptive work can only be understood in light of the true knowledge of who he really was. Given this absolute necessity Jesus disclosed himself to his apostles.
 1. The Public Opinion
Jesus posed a disturbing question to his twelve apostles.
“When Jesus came to the region of Caesarea Philippi, he asked his disciples, ‘Who do people say the Son of Man is?’ They replied, ‘Some say, John the Baptist; others say Elijah; and still others, Jeremiah or one of the prophets.’” (16:13-14)
In the earthly ministry of Jesus, the farthest place he traveled with his apostles was Caesaria Philippi. It was the northeastern-most part of Israel called the Golan Heights near the ancient territory of Dan. It is located in the foothills of Mount Hermon, known by the Arabs as “Mountain of the Chief” since it is the highest mountain in Palestine. At Caesaria Philippi there is a massive wall of rock more than 100 feet (31 meters) straight up and about 500 feet (156 meters) wide. On top of this enormous rock the city of Caesaria Philippi was built. Beneath the massive rock was a large cave known in ancient times as a gate to the underworld or the gate of hell where pagans committed idolatry and immorality in the name of their gods. The original name of the city was Paneas in honor of the Greek god Pan, a half-man, half-goat deity. Philip, a son of Herod the Great and tetrarch of the region of Iturea, the modern Syria, renamed the city to Caesaria Philippi, in tribute to Augustus Caesar the Emperor of Rome who claimed himself as a god to be worshiped in the Empire. The ancient Caesaria Philippi, a royal city built upon a massive rock, was a center of cultic and idolatrous worship.
It was in this city that Jesus asked his apostles, “Who do people say the Son of Man is?” Jesus called himself the “Son of Man” though he was fully conscious of who he really was. In the gospel narratives, this was the first time that Jesus made this direct question to his apostles. He had been with them for almost three years. They saw the great crowd who followed Jesus and heard the public opinion about him. Jesus knew well about it. He was not simply soliciting for mindset information but on how the apostles internalized such public perception. 
The apostles gave a categorical answer. The primary figure that the people perceived of Jesus was a prophet. They took him as a prophet like that of John the Baptist who then had been put to death by King Herod (Mk. 6:27). He was also believed to have the spirit of the prophet Elijah whom the Jews were expecting as spoken by the prophet Malachi (Mal. 4:5). He was also perceived like the prophet Jeremiah in whose time had grieved for the suffering of his people and called them to return to the LORD (Jer. 1:5). The Jews took Jesus as the coming prophet whom Moses had prophesied who would teach Israel the word of God and lead them as his flock (Deut. 18:15).
The apostles themselves shared the same public opinion about Jesus as a prophet. Indeed, Jesus was a prophet, but he was more than a great prophet. Moreover, people believed in him as a Rabbi who taught with authority and power, but he was more than a great Teacher. The crowd followed him as a man of wonders who made awesome miracles, but he was more than a great miraculous worker. The Israelites knew that Jesus was from Nazareth. And because he came from an obscure village and was raised from a poor family, the people questioned his credibility and doubted if he could ever lead them into significant path of greatness. Yes, Jesus was a Nazarene, but he was more than an ordinary man. Who then really is Jesus of Nazareth? Such lingering thought bewildered the apostles. It is a deep concern for everyone who seeks the absolute truth.
 2. The Apostolic Dilemma
The apostles did not expect for Jesus to make a direct question to them. “But what about you?” he asked. “Who do you say I am” (16:15)? They were confronted with the most difficult question in their lives. In their long journey with Jesus they wrestled with this serious inquiry amongst themselves. Now, they must settle the matter once and for all. And their answer would define their lives and faith in Jesus. We could imagine the deafening silence in their midst. In the corner of their eyes they glanced to one another with a staggering thought. Inwardly they asked each other, “What shall we say?” In great fear no one seemed to dare speak. We ask ourselves, “What is our answer to the crucial question of Jesus?”
B.  The Great Revelation (16:16-20)
In that defining crossroad at Caesaria Philippi, the world of the apostles stood still and their faith in Jesus was in a balance. Jesus personally asked them, “But how about you, who do you say I am?” Simon Peter broke the dreadful silence in their midst. And he spoke of who Jesus was. The wonder of it all, his great confession served as the solid foundation of the Christian faith. How can we be sure of this?
 1. The Confession of Peter
Listen to the word of Peter. And the world must take this to heart.
“Simon Peter answered, ‘You are the Christ, the Son of the living God." (16:16)
Let us give a careful thought to the confession of Simon Peter. What is the manner of his confession? His confession was not in a form of a question, “Aren’t you the Christ, the Son of the living God?” To do such would suggest, on one hand, that he was not presumptuous and dogmatic and yearned for confirmation to his inquiry. On the other hand, should he have had answered in question that would be understood that he was not certain of his answer��and we presume that was not the kind of answer Jesus desired to hear. We also observe that Peter did not say, “I think you are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” If that would be the case, it would be taken as a mere personal opinion and defies the rule of absolute truth. Furthermore, we also notice that Peter did not say, “I believe you are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” Faith is definitely important for without such it would be impossible to please God (Heb. 11:6). Nevertheless, if Peter would have had stated his confession on this higher level, the Christian faith seemed to anchor upon his subjective personal faith instead of the objective plain truth of who Jesus is. How then did Simon Peter answer the question of Jesus? Listen to his word, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” Peter declared his confession with deep conviction and defined certainty. And we may say it emphatically that his great confession was anchored upon absolute truth which he embraced with solid faith without any shadow of doubt.
And what is the message of his confession? First of all, Jesus is the Messiah. The Hebrew word “Messiah” with its Greek equivalent “Christ,” means, “The Anointed One.” What does this mean? Jesus is the One whom the Father in heaven has chosen as the perfect divine revelation for human beings to know God and through him alone brought the great salvation of the sinful world and established the kingdom of God on earth under his sovereign rule (Heb. 1:1-3). The whole of creation, including the Empire of Rome and our personal lives as well, are in the hands of Jesus who is the Lord of all (Col. 1:16-17).
Secondly, Jesus is the Son of the living God. Peter made this confession at Caesaria Philippi, a Roman city dedicated for emperor worship and pagan idolatry. Who is Jesus? The confession of Simon Peter was staggering. Jesus is the eternal Son of God equal with God the Father in heaven! When Simon Peter made his confession, in effect, he defied Caesar as god and rid of any form of idolatrous worship. Jesus as God is worthy of absolute worship.
We ask a serious question. Is the confession of Peter expressed the communal faith of the twelve apostles? In light of the biblical narratives, the confession of Peter was a manifesto of the apostolic faith in Jesus. Andrew believed in Jesus as the Lamb of God and the Messiah (Jn. 1:36, 41). Thomas affirmed his faith in Jesus and called him, “My Lord and my God” (Jn. 20:28). John the Beloved testified in his gospel account that Jesus is the eternal God the Son who became flesh (Jn. 1:1, 14). Even Judas Iscariot was fully convinced that Jesus is God for when he betrayed him he was filled with remorse that he betrayed an innocent blood (Mt. 27:4). Matthew and Luke closed their gospel accounts with the eleven apostles worshiping Jesus before he ascended to heaven (Mt. 28:17; Lk. 24:52). In the Scriptures, no one is worshiped but God.
What does this mean to us? We also wrestle with the universal question, “Who is Jesus?” In a personal note, “Who really is Jesus to us?” Indeed, Jesus is more than a great Jewish Rabbi. He is more than a great miraculous worker. He is more than an ordinary carpenter from Nazareth. And he is more than a good man with the highest moral standards. Rather, Jesus is the Messiah, the full divine revelation through whom we can know God and for us to experience his saving grace and enjoy the fullness of life (Jn. 1:18, 29; 10:10). Above all, Jesus is the Son of the living God, the eternal God the Son equal with God the Father and with God the Holy Spirit (Lk. 3:21-22; 2 Cor. 13:14; 1 Pet. 1:2). And at the name of Jesus every knee shall bow and every tongue confess that “Jesus Christ is Lord” for the glory of God the Father (Phil. 2:10-11). The confession of Simon Peter was the solid foundation of the Christian faith. And how can we really be sure of this?
 2. The Affirmation of Jesus
Listen to the word of Jesus.
“Jesus replied, ‘Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah, for this was not revealed to you by man, but by my Father in heaven.’” (16:17) 
The confession of Peter was the revelation of God the Father. The word “revelation,” apokalupsis in Greek, literally means uncovering or unveiling of a divine truth that is presented to the human mind as a direct work of God. Such was the case of the divine revelation of the Person of Jesus as the very work of God the Father directly given to Simon Peter. And why was Peter singled out? Our humble answer is to uphold the sovereign will of God. And we are deeply grateful that God chose to disclose himself to mortals. For no one can know who Jesus really is without the revealing work of God. Jesus declared of this absolute truth. And Jesus himself confirmed to Peter that he indeed, as revealed by his Father in heaven, is the Messiah and the Son of the living God. And we can stand upon this solid foundation of the Christian faith because it is written in the Scriptures, the living and enduring Word of God, under the sovereign inspiration of God the Holy Spirit (2 Pet. 1:20-21). The Bible is the revelation of God in history. And our faith in Jesus Christ the Son of God rests upon a sure and firm foundation.
We have to remind ourselves of a solemn warning. Not all who confess the name of Jesus and proclaim his name believe and embrace the true Jesus as revealed by God the Father and as written in the Holy Scriptures. We have to be warned that there are false teachers who are expert in twisting the teachings of the Bible who profess to know Jesus but in reality they are anti-Christ for they teach another Jesus. Who really is Jesus? Our Father in heaven revealed to Simon Peter that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of the living God. This is the solid confession of Peter that laid the firm foundation of the Christian faith. Jesus is God the Son, the second Person of the Triune God, who became flesh. Any teaching contrary to this divine revelation comes from the Evil One who is the father of lies (Jn. 8:44; 1 Jn. 2:22; 4:1-3). For us who believe in Jesus Christ the Son of God, like Peter, we are truly blessed before God.
3. The Declaration of Jesus
In an idolatrous city of Caesaria Philippi, Jesus revealed who he really is to his apostles. And in this ancient city built upon an enormous bedrock foundation, Jesus declared to his disciples his mission on earth.
“‘And I tell you that you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not overcome it. I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven; whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven.’” (16:18-19)
Jesus revealed that he will build his church on earth. In this particular passage, the word church, in Greek, ekklesia, literally means the called out ones, which Jesus referred to the whole company of the redeemed throughout in the present era of the New Testament. His declaration was in the future tense, “I will build my church.”
When Jesus said, “and on this rock I will build my church,” what “rock” was he referring to? Based on context and semantics, it seems to point to Peter himself and his confession of who Jesus is. Partly so, yes, because Peter is one among the apostles, together with the prophets, who served as pillars in laying the foundational truth of the church of Jesus Christ (Eph. 2:19-20a). In interpreting this passage, however, besides context and semantics, we also have to observe the hermeneutical rule about the meaning of words. The name “Peter” came from the Greek word “Petros” with an equivalent Aramaic word, “Cephas.” Petros or Cephas means literally a “detached stone.” Whereas, the word “rock” upon which Jesus will build his church came from the Greek word “Petra,” which literally means a “mass of rock” like the bedrock of Caesaria Philippi. What does this mean? The Petra which meant a massive rock was used as a metaphor that ultimately points to Jesus as the solid foundation and chief cornerstone of the church (1 Cor. 3:11; Eph. 2:20b).
Based upon this biblical perspective, we can have a better grasp about the Church. First of all, the Church exclusively belongs to Christ. Jesus said, “My church.” Second, Jesus is the absolute builder of his Church. Jesus said, “I will build my church.” Finally, Jesus is the great defender of his Church. Jesus said, “And the gates of Hell shall not prevail against it.” The “gates of Hell’’ as pictured of the dark cave in Caesaria Philippi refers to all powers of darkness including Satan, demons and evildoers.
What does this mean to us? If we are in Christ, we belong to his Church. And in Jesus Christ, we exclusively belong to him as the absolute builder of our lives and the great guardian of our souls. Jesus himself is the “Petra” or the solid Rock in whom we anchor our lives (Is. 26:4).
The divine authority of binding and loosing is directly connected to the keys of the kingdom. In a natural realm, a key is used to unlock a closed door. Applied in a spiritual realm, the “keys of the kingdom” refer to the sovereign movement of God in opening the door of faith to the Jews and Gentiles through the proclamation of the gospel of Christ entrusted to the Church as the primary institution in advancing the kingdom of God on earth. The gospel of Christ was anchored upon the revelation of God the Father to Peter that Jesus is the Christ and the Son of the living God. It is of great interest for us to note that after Jesus revealed himself to his apostles he began to teach to them about his death and resurrection—the essence of his gospel of salvation.
The divine authority of binding and loosing that was given, not only to Peter and the apostles but to the whole church, is to proclaim the gospel of Christ that serves as the absolute key in calling out people through the gospel of Christ so they would be ushered into the kingdom of God. For those who believe the gospel will be “loosed” from sin and darkness and to be with God forever in heaven. But for those who do not believe they will remain “bound” in sin and darkness and cast away in hell forever. The authority of loosing and binding does not rest upon man but in God alone and the power of his Word. And our eternal destiny is determined by our response to the Son of the living God. Jesus gives a categorical pronouncement: “Whoever believes in the Son has eternal life, but whoever rejects the Son will not see life, but God’s wrath remains on him” (Jn. 3:36).  The decision is ours.
 4. The Prohibition of Jesus
At Caesaria Philippi, thus far, two great revelations were given to the apostles. The first is the revelation of God the Father that Jesus is the Messiah and the Son of the living God. The second one is the revelation of Jesus that he will build his church as the primary agent in advancing his kingdom on earth. Having given these amazing revelations, he gave a warning to his apostles. “Then he warned his disciples not to tell anyone that he was the Christ” (16:20). Why? It was because the people embraced a political agenda to enthrone Jesus as their king to build his own kingdom and liberate them from the Roman Empire. In fact, such messianic hope was likewise embraced by the apostles.
We pause awhile and ask ourselves. Who is Jesus to us and why do we follow him? It could be that we, like the people in the past, have a false knowledge about Jesus and follow him for wrong reasons. Or we, like the apostles, could have a true knowledge of who Jesus is but still follow him for our selfish ends. This calls for much searching of our hearts.
C.  The Redemptive Declaration (16:21-23)
The great transition in the earthly ministry of Jesus took place at Caesaria Philippi. In that idolatrous city built upon a massive bedrock foundation, Jesus revealed himself to his disciples and his mission to build his church. This was followed with another disclosure about his redemptive work that unsettled them to the core.  
 1. The Disturbing Revelation
Here was the great twist of event.
“From that time on Jesus began to explain to his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and suffer many things at the hands of the elders, chief priests and teachers of the law, and that he must be killed and on the third day be raised to life.” (16:21) 
After Jesus revealed his Person and his mission, he now disclosed to them privately about his sufferings in the hands of the Jewish leaders in Jerusalem. The apostles could have recalled the reason why they left Jerusalem was because the Jewish authorities plotted to kill him. Now, Jesus himself was saying a different tune. He foretold about his death and resurrection. Death! That grim word devastated the apostles.
 2. Peter Confronted Jesus
It was the impulsive Simon who grabbed Jesus at a corner and confronted him face to face. “Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. ‘Never, Lord!’ he said. ‘This shall never happen to you’” (16:22)
What a contradiction! He called Jesus, “Lord,” yet he acted as one lording over him. At times we do just that as if we know better and place God under our command. And what an irony! Earlier Peter made a great confession about Jesus but now he was airing an outrageous contempt against him. In his defiant protest he used a strong word twice, Never! And he meant his word. No one dare touch Jesus. Peter would defend him to death. Why not? Jesus was their Messiah as King of the Jews!
3. Jesus Rebuked Peter
Jesus gave Simon a brazen look.
“Jesus turned and said to Peter, ‘Get behind me, Satan! You are a stumbling block to me; you do not have in mind the things of God, but the things of men.’” (16:23)
Such was a stern rebuke in its strongest expression. Simon Peter was making a journey between two worlds. He set his heart to follow Jesus but in his own terms. He left everything in following Jesus but gave no room whatsoever for his untimely death. Such closed mindedness if left unchecked would harden his heart from the gospel truth. And Jesus rebuked Peter affront for he was following the footstep of Satan whose only desire is to be a scheming stumbling block in outright opposition to the will of God. Such cutting edge confrontation was painful indeed. Yet Jesus had to be firm to bend the will and refine the heart of Peter. Jesus knew it well that his apostles could not comprehend the essence of his redemptive work in building his church through his death and resurrection. This great transition in his journey with his disciples was hard for them to bear. But Jesus must lead them to a higher ground of discipleship. Anyone who must follow him must take him at his word and yield his life at the cross of Christ even to death (16:24-25).  
Conclusion
At Caesaria Philippi, Jesus made a historic transition in his earthly ministry. In that ancient idolatrous city built upon a massive bedrock foundation, Jesus made three great revelations to his apostles. First, he revealed himself as the Messiah and the Son of the living God. Second, he revealed his mission to build his Church. Third, he revealed his redemptive work anchored upon his death and resurrection. These threefold revelations are integrated. Jesus Christ the Son of God is the absolute builder of his Church through his atoning death at the cross and glorious resurrection from the grave. This revealing truth is the firm foundation of the Christian faith. We now define our terms in following Jesus.
Is Jesus the God of our lives? The personal question of Jesus to his apostles if for all of us, “Who do you say that I am?” Jesus made a good confession, “You are the Christ the Son of the living God.” Jesus the Messiah is the eternal God the Son, the second Person of the Triune God. This sets apart biblical Christianity from all religions in the world. Jesus our God is absolutely worthy of our pure worship, wholehearted love and joyful service.
Is Jesus the Builder of our lives? Jesus declared, “Upon this rock I will build my church.” Jesus as the Rock is the absolute foundation and builder of his Church. If we believe in Jesus and yield our all to him, we belong to his Church the redeemed family of God. We belong to Jesus. We are safe in his hands. And he is at work to finish the good work he began in our lives.
Is Jesus the Redeemer of our lives? Jesus foretold of his death and resurrection for the salvation of the world. When Jesus rose from the dead, the disciples understood and embraced the redemptive work of Christ. Jesus created the universe by the power of his word. And he redeemed the world through his precious blood. It is inconceivable that the God who created us is the very God who redeemed us! The Creator is our Redeemer. At the Cross we humbly embrace the saving grace of God and truly find rest for our weary souls. Blessed are those who anchor their faith in Jesus Christ.
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