#phillip glass onion

[hyacinthony]

hugh grant being benoit blanc‘s husband in glass onion means phillip and blanc had a gay romcom movie in the middle of all of blanc’s agatha christie whodunnit movies

[sigh-lighter]

IT’S ALL CONNECTED :0000!!!

[jesuisici33]

everyone’s talking about how phillip met benoit on a case or in a baking class with phillip being charmed by benoit detective skills but did you see how absolutely done he was when helen came to their place? i raise you reporter phillip having to interview benoit and being unimpressed causing benoit to be delighted cause everyone fawns over the clever detective but not him

[staypuffy]

And now, for your viewing pleasure I present to you the Hugh Grant Gay Characters Cinematic Universe, or as it’s known colloquially: HGGCCMU.

Seriously though this man is collecting fruity roles like Thanos collected infinity stones.

Just in case anyone was curious as to my classification of said roles, Clive Durham is the Power Stone, Jeremy Thorpe is the Reality Stone, Raymond is the Mind Stone, Phoenix Buchanan is the Space Stone, and Phillip is the Soul Stone.

One more gay role and Hugh Grant has the power to end the world as we know it.

Please keep this in mind throughout the new year.

[princessstevemunson]

When Benoit says he knows a guy who can help with Helen’s hair, I’m just picturing that “the guy” is Phillip.

[glass-onion-incorrect-quotes]

Phillip: Hey Blanc can I get a sip of your water Blanc: It's not water. Phillip: Vodka, I like your style! Blanc: It's vinegar. Phillip: Wh-Wha- Blanc: It's vinegar, COWARD.

[williexmercer]

Am I the only one who noticed his shoes in this scene, how could anyone think he’s straight.

Like his husband went to the store and got Blanc a nice pair of shoes just for this trip

His fashion is everything look at the way that the shoes doesn’t take away from the bright yellow and blue

[totally-correct-bbu-quotes]

Helen: Not gonna lie, I'm kind of afraid of Phillip...

Benoit: As you should be.

Helen: No, for real, he's kind of-

Benoit: As. You. Should. Be.

[you-me-we-04]

Until told otherwise Phillip is actually just a different Hugh Grant character living under a fake name my current two best guess are either the Paddington 2 villain or Daniel Cleaver from Bridget Jones

[dunderbread]

last one my phillip theory is that he’s just some random dude. some random ass dude. no crazy backstory, barely involved in blanc’s misadventures, and yet they are so in love with each other. it makes sense and its hilarious. literal world renowned detective and some guy who bakes bread. 

[sparklyslug]

Believe it or not, Phillip and Benoit were childhood sweethearts

[lady-charinette]

Cringe take about Benoit Blanc & Phillip but:

Did they meet in a coffee shop? At the bookstore?

Maybe at a flower shop? Was Phillip the hot neighborhood florist who always seemed a lil bit too taken with his job to be taken by anyone else until that one hot eccentric detective showed up at his store for a case and inquired about a plant related to a murder case. Phillip was a goner.

When Benoit asks for a specific type of plant, Phillip is a nervous wreck and rambles about all the plants in his store, how the humidity level has to be adjusted for each one according to their tastes, if glass cases or plastic coverings are better for growth for some of them, how his beloved venus fly trap requires at least 30min in the morning to gently wake her up and feed her an insect (flies smacked dead by Phillip are her favorite as opposed to already dead specimens he buys online, his search history is interesting). Benoit listens with apt interest, he doesnt interrupt him to inquire further about the specific flower he's looking for, he just listens and nods his head, sometimes writes stuff down.

Phillip is confused why the fuck THE Benoit Blanc would ask about a purple hyacinth but they ended up talking for 2 hours about the flower and religion and how, according to Greek mythology, Apollo created the flower after his dead lover Hyacinthus, whom Apollo accidentally killed, hence the flowers symbolizing sorrow and remorse.

The hyacinth flower is also used for Haftsin, a Persian custom for New Year's called Nowruz where seven beautiful items are symbolically gathered to celebrate the arrival of spring. All of the items are to start with the letter "S".

Coincidentally, the murder victim was Persian, an Iranian by the name of Samuel Safavi. And his boyfriend celebrated New Year's with him every year. Until this one.

"Brilliant, absolutely brilliant. How a flower can crack a case, it's- it's-"

Phillip supplied helpfully:"...brilliant?"

Benoit glanced at the handsome florist who had helped him solve the murder case and smiled, this time, it reached his eyes. "Yes... You wouldn't mind ponderin' for a lil while longer on this, would you? I wouldn't want to keep you from yer customers."

Phillip, flips the 'open' sign to 'closed':"I don't mind doing some poundi-pondering, pondering!" he held his empty cup in the air:"Um, tea?"

Benoit chuckles and they ponder over the case for a little while longer.

Benoit Blanc successfully apprehends the suspect, who had accidentally killed his boyfriend mid argument by touching his face with his hands after he had handled shellfish.

His boyfriend had been allergic to shellfish.

Benoit Blanc visits the little flower shop to find Phillip and thank him for his help, but unfortunately, it had been closed. Just as Benoit turned around to head back home, Phillip strolls from up behind him with grocery bags in his hands and a sheepish smile.

He sheepishly elaborates how he had bought too much food for himself and how it gets a little lonely in the flower shop and his apartment was right above it and he had turned the heater on. Benoit is perceptive enough to see through it and shyly accepts the invitation to dinner. The cute florist intrigues him just so, more than any case.

[pearwaldorf]

[edit 12/27] Hey go reblog this instead thx

--

It’s a really fucking boring party. Phillip is here purely for lack of anything better to do, including sitting on his couch and binging Parks and Recreation, which he’s done three times this year already. 

(Lyndie glared at him when he demurred yet again, but then softened.

“Babes, I know it’s been hard on you, but you have to get out there. Not in a find yourself a nice rebound way, although I do think it would be beneficial, but you have to get out and talk to people.” 

“And who exactly am I going to talk to, love?” He was fine with Tim getting pretty much the entire friend group after the breakup initially, but it was real fucking depressing looking at his contacts and realizing there wasn’t anybody who wanted to hear from him. 

“Somebody. Anybody. Not everybody in the fucking world is part of Tim’s circle.” Lyndie’s trying her best, bless her, but that’s what sisters (or close as) do, right? It’s not fair to her to be his one social lifeline.

“All right. For you.” 

She beamed that damnable grin that makes everybody fall over themselves to do what she wants, him included, and kissed his cheek. “Thanks babes. You won’t regret this.”

“We’ll see.”)

It’s an exhibit opening, and now that Phillip’s looked at the art (pedestrian, derivative) and nibbled at the platters (Costco, of all things. Not that they’re bad, but absolutely not in keeping with the atmosphere), he’s taken his plastic glass of Three Buck Chuck to find a corner to people-watch.

In the back next to the one actually interesting sculpture, he nods to a man dressed in the most fascinatingly archaic suit. No, that’s not the right word. It’s like he bought all his clothes at one time and never bothered to replace them because they really don’t make them like they used to. They’re at least forty years out of style, but they fit well. 

Phillip takes a sip of the wine. Oh god, he’d forgotten how awful this plonk is, not really being a person who frequents places where the quantity of alcohol is more desirable than the quality. 

“I regret I don’t have a fine vintage to offer you, but this has to be better than whatever swill they’re providing.” The other man holds up a flask, smiling. He’s not exactly handsome—his eyes are too small and his ears stick out too much for that, but he has a sharp, curious demeanor that makes Phillip want to know more. 

He takes the flask, ignoring how their fingers brush,  and downs more than is probably polite. It’s whiskey of some sort, burning sweet on the way down. 

“Thank you,” he says, handing it back. “It is very much an improvement.” 

The man screws the lid back on, puts the flask back in his jacket pocket. “A fine bourbon, American of course. Certainly other countries produce it, but it never tastes quite right. Like a bagel made outside of New York.” His accent is something Phillip has heard but never actually encountered in person, almost parodic in its intensity. It’s fascinating.

“They do make bagels elsewhere. And they’re nothing like the ones in New York.” Phillip says, just to be a shit. 

“Indeed, and I do not mean to impugn their quality. But I suppose we latch onto the examples we first encounter as the ideal.” He puts out his hand. “Benoit Blanc. If we’re going to have a conversation I suppose we should get a little more acquainted.”

“Phillip Owen.” The other man’s hand is warm, his grip assertive and confident. 

“A pleasure, Mr. Owen.” It might be the whiskey, but Phillip swears Blanc’s voice is warmer, more friendly. 

“I don’t mean to be presumptuous or rude, but your name does not strike me as particularly Southern.” 

Instead of bristling in offense like Phillip expected, Blanc just smirks, a little reproving. “How quickly we forget history, Phillip.” His smile takes any sting there might have been from the words.

“Now that I’m to get a lecture it’s Phillip?” He keeps his voice light. This is probably the most interesting conversation he’s had in a long time, which is probably a bit sad when he thinks about it, but he’s a little buzzed from the whiskey and he’s enjoying himself much more than he thought he would tonight.

“Lecture is such a stuffy word. Call it a gentle reminder of things that should be more prominent in your memory.” Blanc’s kind of a shit too, and god help him, Phillip is into it. 

“Then tell me what I should remember, Benoit,” he says, as gravely as he can. 

The other man winces, like he’s physically pained. “I hate that name. By the love of whatever you consider holy, Blanc, please.” 

Impulsively, he reaches for Blanc’s hand. “I’ll call you whatever you like if we get out this stuffy hellhole into a place with better liquor and a place to sit.” Is it forward? Absolutely. But it’s been a long time since he’s had anybody besides Lyndie to talk to, and he didn’t realize how much he missed it until now. 

Blanc looks a bit surprised, but his mouth curls slow into a smile that might promise something more. “That sounds like a wonderful idea.”

[queer-and-nd-coded]

diverity win! the faintly ludicrous detective with a weird accent and a thing for food metaphors is gay (and married)!

[loveisadagger-or-hammer]

Okay so I watched glass onion on Christmas and was obsessed with Phillip and Blanc. So here’s my headcanon of what happens when Blanc gets home.

Obviously Phillip would find out what happens over the news which leads him to be up at like 2am when Blanc is getting back home. (Phillip wouldn’t have heard from Blanc because he cares more getting home to his husband than letting his husband know that he’s safe.) As soon as Phillip hears the door open he runs to Blanc and holds him, which makes Blanc feel so guilty. The two end up on the sofa holding each other for what feels like ages but Blanc smells terrible (from the gas and smoke also possibly from flying) so he wants to take a bath. While on any other occasion Phillip would let him but right now he just wants his husband, so Blanc decides that he’ll take a bath while Phillip sits on the floor holding him and checking him for injury’s. (While in the bath Blanc mentions the Mona Lisa being destroyed which makes more distraught) (Phillip usually isn’t this scared but this time he couldn’t get a real update on his husband)

[girlcheater]

also, because, im unhinged when i recover from my slept-24-hours-in-8-days-exam-season-binge ill write a 50k benoit blanc pandemic mental breakdown fic. he’s just losing his mind and phillip is like darling have you tried leaving the tub it might help.