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gra-sonas · 3 years

Note

Hey! I hate to ask this, you already do so much for us! But would you mind just a tiny recap of Vlamis’ live from last night? You don’t have to go into a ton of detail or anything, I just saw that it was a half hour long. I have a weird anxiety thing that keeps me from watching lives and stories for the most. Still haven’t even been able to work myself up to watching the vlamburn one as much as I’d love to! 🙁

Either way, thank you for everything!

Okay, nonnie. I went and watched the whole thing again and wrote you a detailed account of what’s been said. I’ll link the live again, then you can watch here if you want to. Or not. Up to you. 🤗 Hope this helps. 💕

youtube

Brushing his teeth and flossing for 3 minutes while talking.

800 new follower lately “where have you been before?”

“Do you do anything to your hair at night?” He adds Moroccan hair oil in the morning, nothing at night.

“What’s your favorite of the drop?” He hasn’t seen everything from the drop (like the COSMIC tie-dye) bc he’s in Santa Fe. He loves the COSMIC and MALEX embroidered things (“so subtle”) bc they are in Vlamburn’s handwriting, he loves the Manesqueeze shirt bc you can make Alex and Michael kiss by putting your wrists together. He *loves* the candle (there’s one burning on his bedside table), the silky PJs are great, but he can’t decide on just one favorite thing.

“How’s Jesa’s sanity?” She needs like 3 weeks of sleep. He explains, that while we *are* the Vlambase, the Vlambase merch company’s just Jesa and Vlamis. Jesa has a team, but all the day-to-day things, ideas, emails/customer service (Jesa), the newsletter (Vlamis). They hadn’t collaborated with anyone before Tyler, so working with him was a new experience.

One fan mentions how they wanted to buy stuff but couldn’t. Vlamis says that he’s been there, and when he wanted something in the past he couldn’t afford, he started putting away a Dollar a day.

“Thought on One Direction?” Vlamis is a Harry Styles guy. “Harry Styles’ swagger is next level!”

“What do you think about Russia? Will Vlambase merch be available here?” Talks a bit about how annoying things are with shipping companies, says they wanted to protect themselves for the holidays, and now that the Christmas rush is over, some shipping options have become available again.

“Who came up with MANESQUEEZE” He ponders about it, and settles on Jesa. It was Vlamis’s ides to put tiny Alex and tiny Michael on the sleeves so that they can kiss tho. And Tyler came up with the idea to put a “toupee” on his head (in a previous drop, the NEVER LOOK AWAY design had tiny Alex and tiny Michael on the sleeves, but poor Alex was bald) for the design.

Someone got a MALEX pin and the candle. He knows the pin sold out fast, and he feels bad about that. They want everyone to get everything they want, but it’s difficult to make proper calculations how well an item will sell. The pandemic made things even harder. Like the PJ sets. Normally, they would wait until the sale ends and see how many sets were actually ordered, but during the pandemic, stock listings have been changing dramatically from day to day, so they had to pre-order the PJs and robes to make sure they had a certain number at their disposal. He said that they “overshot” on a couple of things, but ultimately sales have been great, and he appreciates that.

“I’m excited to make the MANESQUEEZE doodles kiss bc I do that with the NEVER LOOK AWAY shirt” Vlamis jumps up and shows his closet that’s full of Vlambase merch items.

“Why am I here, it’s almost 3am” He mentions that he’s been staying up until 4 in the past couple of days, but he has to be on set in 7 or 8 hours.

“Hello, just wanted to let you know that I got a tattoo for you” Vlamis asks for a photo and to be tagged.

“Kyle the packer [Vlamis’s roomie KA, who works in the warehouse when a new drop is ready for shipping]” Vlamis says they’re working him to death.

“Please save this live” He doesn’t know whether he’ll save it. Thinks the one with Tyler was important, but since it’s just him, he doesn’t think it’s important.

“I followed Jesa, Jesa is the real MVP” Vlamis says that Jesa is “a beast, and best in the game”. Quickly explains who Jesa is, and that she’s his partner in the Vlambase merch company. He mentions that she recently called him with an idea for Valentine’s Day, and he was like “Jesa, we need to relax!” But she loved the idea. She’s a big fan of RNM and the characters (and Tyler). “Jesa’s amazing.”

“What about new Soli art [Soli’s the artist who created the Boys Will Be Boys art for a previous drop]?” Vlamis smiles. “What about new Soli art. I like that idea. 😏“

“Your house [in New Mexico] is so cute.” Vlamis says thank you and shows the ceiling of the house (which he likes best). “Santa Fe is dope!”

“I adore your teeth” *shows his teeth* Says he had to wear braces (some even adjustable)

“I could’ve used my birthday money to buy something but I forgot” 🤨 << Vlamis’s face. “How you you forget, man?”

“Back to Twitter after this live” He mentions that he’d just been on Twitter before the live.

He got retweeted by Mountain Dew and loves it.

“I’m from Australia and hope my merch arrives before winter” Vlamis says he hopes shipping will be fast.

“Love the Valentines” They’re not actually Valentines, hence they’re “Love Notes”. Vlamis considers doing them not just around Valentine’s Day.

“You catch any of the CW shows returning this month?” “Might have to” But he knows what he’ll be catching on the 12th. “Prodigal Son, baby!”

“Where did you get the Game Boys?” Those are his Game Boys. He has a Game Boy Advanced and a Game Boy Color.

“How do you feel about Forlex?” *scoffs* 😒 “Yeah”

“So excited for the robe!” Vlamis gets excited. “The robes and the PJs are so comfy!” Talks about how it’s a bit weird, bc they don’t make them themselves.

Several people mention that their closet looks like his closet bc of all the merch and he loves that.

“How do you feel about Forlex” *gets agitated* “Why are you asking me this? Don’t do that to me, alright?” *softer* “Don’t do that.”

“How are you doing?” He’s doing very well. Very relieved that eh sale went well. This drop was like 3-4 months of work, the night before the sale felt like an entire month, too. Jesa and Vlamis Facetimed for more than 5hrs. They set up the website, and that’s how the glitch with the GIVE ME MALEX OR GIVE ME DEATH shirts and poster happened. They made a mistake and only noticed after the website went live.

“Do you know when S3 will air?” No, he thought it might’ve been sooner, but apparently not.

“I love your poetry from the last drop so why no poems this time?” He writes poems when he’s inspired, he hasn’t written a poem in a while. He’s currently preparing to direct his first movie in June 2021, and he’s been very focused on that.

“The Meet & Greet day changed.” Filming schedule changed bc they had snow, the schedule’s changing constantly. He’ll be set all day tomorrow (well, today, Jan 11) from 8am until 8 or 9pm. Sometimes they might even wake up in the morning and learn that the schedule’s been changed.

“You could talk about nothing and we’d still watch.” He doesn’t want to talk about nothing, wonders if anyone has any questions about the sale.

“I’m so excited about the robe. I was going to buy more but I’m broke.” He says we should be responsible.

Someone’s still waiting about their Black Friday stuff, but he says it’s the shipping company, not them.

“Vlamentines" He *loves* that, thinks it’s a good pun.

“Gotta support Aurora.” Always. 🥰

“Jealous Guerin in S3?” You’ll see, you’ll see.

“I placed 3 orders, last one last night. Give me Malex or give me death.” He loves it. He also mentions, that they’re working hard on figuring out how to combine orders in the future so people don’t have to pay for shipping several times. They just can’t do that logistically at the moment.

“Real talk, how often do you check your DMs?” He says, that some people might’ve noticed that he occasionally likes random photos on people’s IG pages. When that happens, it’s a sign that he read someone’s DM. He feels bad when he checks his mentions with a delay, and people’s stories have already vanished after 24hours. He sometimes doesn’t get to checking DMs for a week.

“Will we ever get the original pic of the kiss recreation?” *smiles* *waggles his eyebrows* “Maybe in the morning”

“So happy the Trevor Project was chosen for this merch drop!” He’s very happy, too. According to him, it was a no-brainer. Tyler’s worked with them in the past, so it made even more sense. They wanted to make sure that Tyler felt very strongly about wherever they’d be donating.

People urge him to go to sleep. “You want me to go to bed?”

“Why is your merch not available in India?” *deep breath* “It should be, it’s ridiculous. Unbelievable.”

“Your poetry was awesome.” He appreciates the praise and promises to write some more poetry.

Someone asks whether the movie he’ll be directing in June will be a comedy, but he says it’s the opposite. He’s mentioned in the past that Aurora and him will both act in the movie, but apparently he forgot about that. He doesn’t want to jinx the movie and doesn’t know how much he should reveal just yet. Talks a bit about 5 Years Apart.

Someone mentions that it’s Jeanine’s birthday on January 14th.

“Do (or don?) a face mask, Vlamis.” He refuses. Mentions his friend and roommate Spencer Waldner, who makes face masks.

“If there’s leftover merch, will you do another sale?” He says that most things are actually sold out bc they use Blank Clo’s blanks and will only make what’s been ordered. They might try to restock some pins tho, bc they went so quickly.

“USPS are a joke” He defends them. “They’re a public service, they’re trying hard, guys.”

“You should do a Vlambase drop with the Real Vlamis [a.k.a. Jeanie]” He’s excited and thinks it’s a good idea and asks if anyone’d be interested.

Someone congratulates him on directing his first movie. He points out that he’s directed before (Making It, a 3-part web series, it’s on YouTube).

“Would you ever come to Australia Comic Con?” He’d love to. Mentions that he’s supposed to be in Paris in May for a convention, but he’s not sure whether that’s gonna happen considering how things are currently going with the pandemic.

Some more talk about 5 Years Apart.

Circles back to doing a merch drop with Jeanine. People like the idea.

“Please save this live.” After an IG update, things have changed and he doesn’t know how to do it. In the past he had the option to save it [for 24hrs], now he can only upload it to IGTV.

“$30 shipping to Australia hurts my soul but I did it anyway.” He appreciates that and mentions, that he lived in Australia for 6 months in the past.

“Sing some Bright Eyes” He thinks his singing would hurt people’s ears.

Jesa Joy pops up in the chat and urges him to go to bed.

“Jesa is yelling at you.” Vlamis says that Jesa’s a “yeller”, and that she has a tattoo that says “Don’t yell tho”. He admits that Jesa often yells for a good reason. “I need to be yelled at sometimes.”

Someone asks him to accept a request to join his live. He says he’s pretty tired.

He says hello to someone from Germany (not me btw :P) “What’s up, Germany ✌️”

More people ask him to sing, but he says he cannot sing. He says it’s not like a joke or him being modest, he straight up can’t sing and is a horrible singer.

“Will there be a sequel to 5 Years Apart?” Maybe a sequel called “10 Years Apart” (he’s joking and visibly tired)

“Should I buy anything before the sale ends?” Yes.

Jesa Joy’s from Michigan, and Vlamis’s grandma’s from Middlesborough, Kentucky.

“Is Tyler singing again?” He doesn’t know. “I hope so. Love that kid’s voice” (Tyler’s 3.5 years older than Vlamis :P)

He’s getting sleepy and will read a little bit before bed. Considers drinking some Mountain Dew.

“Do you take design ideas.” Sure. Sometimes he sees design ideas from people they’ve been working on for months, but he’s gonna “steal” an idea from someone, he’ll tell them. He’ll steal it, though.

“Are you still reading SAGA?” He read the first one and is half-way through the second. He’s currently reading a book called “My First Movie” by Stephen Lowenstein. “How cliché.” Aurora got it for him.

Purple Skittles are his favorite. Purple everything.

“Your girlfriend’s the best girlfriend.” She is, she really is.

Asks Jesa Joy whether he should go to bed now.Even though it’s late, he’s hungry. Considers eating something. People tell him to go to bed.

He asks “Should I get naked and put on the PJs?” *waggles eyebrows* “I’M KIDDING, YOU’RE SICK. YOU’RE ALL DISGUSTING.” xD

“Don’t eat!” He laughs.

Says goodbye and says that Jesa’s posted a surprise picture.

“Any advice for aspiring actors?” Tells them to make their own stuff bc no one’s gonna hire them. (He’s being sarcastic). “It’s dark, but it’s what you need to hear.”

“Okay, love you guys. Thank you again! It was our best sale yet. Means a lot to me. Means a lot to Tyler. Us doing so well might mean that Tyler will work with us again. So I really appreciate it. Okay, I love you all.”

Jesa promises to post the pic in 4 minutes. He’s excited. “See, I got her to do it! The picture is kind of ridiculous.”

*pretends to take off his shirt, stops halfway through* “Noooooo, noooooo, noooooo!”

*throws kiss* “Love you guys, good night.”

#michael vlamis #vlambase #mgv ig #mgv interviews #nonnie asks

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phanlight · 3 years

Text

Imagine Living Like a King Someday

prompt: Southview Boarding School isn’t a castle and Phil Lester isn’t royalty, but he has everything. His father owns the school, he’s popular, has the best room, gets all the best treatment – there are very few things that aren’t handed to him on a platter. Dan is a cleaner/Phil’s personal maid there, and he isn’t as lucky. Everyone seems to take an aversion to the outsider, including Phil (at first).

[CHAPTER MASTERPOST]

me thinkin i’d cleared this fic up w the last chapter til i re-read a bunch of it and HOOOOO BOI why was i so obsessed with plot twists without the fkin plot

I am determined to make this all add up and work together but it may take a few chapters also I still have no idea how this is going to end LOL

[ao3 link]

Southview owns a lot of land.

It spreads out in blanketed acres of green, field upon forest upon meadow; miles of emerald patchwork. The building itself, founded somewhere in the fourteenth century apparently, makes up only a fraction of the private greenery Phil has been calling home for the past decade.

Habitatually speaking, it’s impressive. To be able to call such rich halls, such polished corridors and winding mahogany stairs, ever spiraling further and further below his house, his own dwelling; is something he struggles to grasp. He supposes every other student currently residing here may find some relation to a certain degree – but to look at a winding cobbled path and every single brick completing every wall, to name the clock tower chiming every high-clouded noon into existence anything remotely of an heirloom – isn’t anything his soul will allow him to process. He doesn’t see it changing anytime soon.

He stares at the wall-to-wall bookshelves lining every corridor brimming with ancient knowledge, medieval tales and just about every participle of the literary canon. There are strict rules against removing any books from their respective shelves with dire consequences if unobliged (absolutely ridiculous, Phil thinks – who in their right mind would consider reading a punishable offence? They’re there to be read.) He and Dan had taken it upon themselves to create a discreet enough rule-breaking method; choosing the dead of night to tiptoe through long, hallowed corridors devoid of light and sound and people and life, all whispers and giggles and cold interlocked fingers, sleepy eyes scanning fraying ladders of spines, whispered-yet-echoey assessments over which would be least missed for however many hours.

The candles up above, though only illuminated during the seasonal months, drip hardened wax onto the stone walls covering every inch of interior; something he otherwise never would have seen anywhere else in this time, let alone place. The beams hang dark and gnarled, curving across every roof with chapel-like grace.

He’s lucky, and he knows it.

Why, then, does he feel like a bird in a cage? Why can he sense the wings, feathered promises of freedom, hit against iron bars whenever he outstretches? This place is becoming too small, he decides. Seven years walking the same grounds, with the same windows and the same views no matter how creative he gets with his detours. The same faces, same conversations with all the same values; with only sporadic weeks of the outside world in between.

He wonders what he would have done had Dan not entered the scene. Wherever the place in his mind, he knows madness would reside. He only feels a breath away from it now.

He blames it on his surroundings, pushing down the rise of unease that jumps through his stomach. It’s got to be that.

It doesn’t subside.

“Are you okay?” he hears a voice soften beside him.

He can’t lie. Not to Dan.

He shuts his eyes and realizes he’s been staring at that Oscar Wilde painting for way too long. The afterimage burns his retina in every shade of negative. His hair deep black on canvas now chalk white behind the eyelids. His eyes look like caves.

“I don’t know,” is the closest to the truth he can get. “I feel weird.”

Dan’s entire stance changes. Concern floods his eyes and he’s suddenly upright

“Why? What’s up?”

“I don’t-…” he shakes his head in defeat. “I really don’t know. That’s why I’m so-…” his racing mind interrupts him. So what? So comfortable, yet so ill at ease? It makes no sense.

This should be bliss. Curled up on a beanbag with his favourite person somewhere on the third floor of the library behind a wooden disguise of bookshelves and tall tables. Their ‘spot’ lies in a convenient nook no other soul seems to have yet discovered – a definite perk of being the son of the owner is having premium, extensive knowledge of every single crack and avenue this place has to offer; surveillance included.

That’s how the undercroft became a meeting point in the first place, Phil suddenly remembers as his stomach falls through three stone library floors.

It was him.

He had come up with the idea. He had planned the safest night-time route, locating every surveillance camera and possible risky window. And he, funnily enough, was the one who had spent an hour talking the three of them into it to begin with – if he strains his mind far back enough he can recall even Liam having doubts. Many of them, actually.

“Come on,” a harsher, younger and definitely more obnoxious version of himself had urged.

“No way,” Liam was the first to say. Freddie and Violet hadn’t been overly keen, but it was Liam who was adamant.

He feels sicker.

“What’s bothering you?” Dan closes the book they were giggling at no longer than forty seconds ago and turns his attention completely to him.

His heart is thudding now. He hasn’t given any of that any thought whatsoever since it happened; all anxiety surrounding the situation having been newly dissipated by evenings of laughter and love and-

Had it been dissipated? Or merely masked? Ignorance by will or by proxy?

“Phil?”

Had he spent all these passing months pointing fingers, dodging the blame, deflecting everything like a house of mirrors when this whole thing, this entire time, had actually been his fault?

He snaps out of himself and realizes it’s Emily Dickinson now burning behind the eyelids.

It’s too much. Even the oil portraits, beautiful as they are (and original too, allegedly), are all the same faces. It’s all the fucking same.

“We need to get out of here.”

Dan frowns. “Huh?”

“We need to get out of here,” he repeats, and stands up immediately. The book that was on his lap catapults to the floor, landing outstretched in a papery mess.

“Wait-“ Dan scrabbles around behind him, rescuing the book and smoothing out the newly crumpled pages. His own expression creases a little with the paper.

Phil doesn’t. He can’t. His vision is a tunnel and it’s only blind panic propelling him forward, past shelves and students and voices he can only barely decipher. Every cell in his body, every single drop of blood and beat of his heart is drilling the same message into his mind.

Get out.

It’s only until he feels the slap of winter air against his damp forehead he realizes he’s outside. He stops sweating and starts shivering, clutching the corner of the stone wall as if gravity be seconds away from disappearing and flinging him into the night sky.

His chest feels like lead. Each breath comes heavy, deep; never quite enough despite each gasp filling up his lungs like he’s drowning on air alone. His stomach feels like someone has clawed it out with blunt, bare fingers.

The huge door flaps open and a tiny figure runs out.

He can barely see. His vision still exists in blobs and grains, like someone turned up the contrast too much but also turned it right down completely. What’s happening to him?

“I’m sorr-“ he gasps, but Dan hushes him.

“Focus on your breath,” his voice is calm but firm. He’s unaware of the soft grip on either shoulder until he sees two arms outstretched in front of him.

Phil tries to, but each gasp gets stuck in his throat.

“In through the nose, out through the mouth,” Dan guides him, demonstrating. Each breath seems so smooth, so calculated. Phil doesn’t want to think how often he’s had to do this.

His heart is still hammering, but he manages to comply.

“Imagine you’re blowing on a candle,” Dan continues. “But don’t blow it out.”

It’s a challenge to focus when his mind is running one million mines a minute, but Phil shuts his eyes and eventually the swirling grain begins to subside. He’s still breathing way too hard and it’s probably enough to blow out a ninety-seventh birthday cake, but Dan’s encouragement doesn’t waver.

“You’re getting there,” he says, giving his shoulders a gentle squeeze before dropping his grip completely. “Are you okay with that, by the way?” he gestures toward his hands. “Fuck, sorry- I should have asked- but when I’m having a panic attack it usually helps to keep me like-… centred.”

“No, it’s-…” Phil releases a shaky breath. “It helps. Thank you,” his eyes flutter shut when he feels two warm hands on his shoulder. He’s already feeling a fraction calmer.

“No need to thank me,” Dan says, his voice like velvet.

His eyes fly open. “Panic attack?”

Dan’s own are soft. “I think that’s what you’re having.”

His heart is still thudding, but at a marginally dropped pace. He’s never experienced anything like that before. Shit, is that what it’s like?

His vision has almost completely cleared; certainly enough to make out Dan’s silhouetted form in the amber glow of the lamp post.

“Is this really what you go through?” his voice is reedy, hoarse. All he can focus on is the boy inches away from his face.

Dan nods quietly. “Can be up to five times a day. Once it was twenty.”

He feels like crying. However much adrenaline there had been ripping through his veins had melted away; albeit only slightly, but the thought alone of this being a daily endeavor makes him want to physically remove his central nervous system himself. The thought of enduring such pain not only on a daily basis but multiple, only to emerge with a smile and with enough capacity to help others with the same issue-

Dan is an angel.

He doesn’t deserve him, his mind cries. He really doesn’t. He doesn’t.

“Deep breaths,” he reminds him, and it’s only then he realizes he’s hyperventilating again.

“Fuck,” he curses, slowing his chest down. He remembers the candle and closes his eyes again.

“You’re doing great,” Dan whispers when his breathing softens. “You’ve only blown out about seven this time. You’re on your eighth.”

He huffs out a shaky laugh, his heart melting into a puddle. As if he’d been counting.

“Ah,” Dan grins. “Maybe ninth, now.”

“Thank you,” he sighs, still trembling. He can’t tell if it’s temperature or panic-related anymore, but he doesn’t think he cares. He doesn’t have the capacity to right now.

“Come on,” Dan pulls him into a hug, arms wound tight around the waist as if there be no intention, no need to let go. “You’re okay.”

“How can you deal with that?” he says, not bothering to mask the crack in his voice.

“I have my ways,” he says as smoothly as his voice can allow, but Phil feels him gulp. Feels the quick jump of his throat against his shoulder.

The nausea returns.

“Ow, fuck-“ Dan snaps his fingers up from the drawer. “Bastard thing.”

“It wants your fingers more than I do,” Phil mumbles, then coughs on a mouthful of Mountain Dew.

Droplets fly everywhere.

"Phil!” Dan’s jaw drops when a few darken his trousers. He’s more than used to the other boy’s frequent laughter at his own jokes, but that one wasn’t even funny. “For fuck’s sake. So not only am I in pain, I’m wet too?”

“In pain and wet?” A voice pops up from around the corner, sending a jolt through the pair of them. “Phil, you naughty bastard, what have you been doing to the poor guy?”

“Oh, you f-“ Phil clutches his chest, his heart hammering. “Are you ever going to stop doing that? I had my first panic attack today. I don’t want another.”

“You’re saying that like it isn’t my plan,” Noah raises an eyebrow and slides past.

“Come in,” Phil gestures sarcastically.

“Leave your door open,’ he retaliates with equal sarcasm, blowing him a kiss. He plops himself down on the revolving chair and takes a token spin. He’s frowning on the other end of the 360 degrees, the other half of the sentence only just registering. “Shit, are you okay? What brought it on?”

“I am now,” Phil’s eyes flicker to the other company, mopping his trousers with a clump of tissue. “Dan got me through.”

He doesn’t deliberately avoid the latter question, but it’s certainly no accident.

“Candle trick works wonders, I’m telling you,” Dan says without turning around, still dabbing at the stain.

“It does,” Noah agrees, picking up Phil’s empty pen holder. He usually lasts a record of ten whole seconds in his room before finding something nearby to fiddle with. “It got me through the Death of a Salesman production, that’s for sure. Christ, I was a mess,” he shudders. “The four-seven-eight trick is good, too,” he adds.

“Four seconds in, hold for seven, exhale for eight,” the other boy echoes. “In through the nose, out through the mouth. You press your tongue on the roof of your mouth just behind your teeth, too.”

“Really?” Phil’s eyes dart between the pair of them. Is this something he’s going to have to get used to?

“It’s meant to recalibrate the nervous system. Apparently Leonardo DiCaprio uses it,” Noah adds.

“Wonder if it would have helped on the Titanic,” Phil raises an eyebrow.

“The fucking boat would have sank anyway,” Noah cackles. “The four-seven-eight is good, but it can’t demolish icebergs, babe.”

“It has its limits,” Dan adds, plopping the tissue in the bin and heading for the bed. A quick "you okay now?" is mouthed as soon as Noah takes another spin on the chair.

Phil nods and gives his hand a little squeeze, praying he hasn’t noticed the sweat.

“So,” Noah spins again, eyes to the ceiling, before muttering a “fuck that” and leaping up off the chair. He stumbles around for a handful of seconds, clutching the desk. “What have you boys been up to, then?”

“What, since this afternoon?” Phil says. He’d only seen him about five hours ago.

“Yeah. Anything could have happened,” Noah replies, dizzily plonking himself down on the bed next to Dan with such force the shorter boy bobs upward. Phil splutters.

“That was- oh my god, that was adorable,” he gasps delightedly. “Do it again.”

Dan glares at him, fighting a smirk. “Shut up. No, don’t do it again.”

“Do what again?” Noah glances between them. “I don’t even know what I did.”

“Did you not see that?” Phil widens his eyes. “Oh my god. When you bounce down like that,“ he giggles, ignoring Dan’s “no, shall we not” – “Dan’s like a feather, so he literally defies gravity.”

“Hah,” Noah springs upward and launches himself down with about three times the force as before. Dan catapults up, starfished in the air for about a second before hurtling down on the mattress.

Noah and Phil hoot with laughter. Dan’s doubled over in stitches, clutching his abdomen. He can feel tears of laughter brimming at his eyelashes and he probably looks in pain right now but really he’s anything but.

He’s so happy it hurts.

“Shit, he really does!” Noah shrieks. “Oh my god, that’s quality. You okay?”

Dan manages to breathe out an ‘I’m fine’, still clutching his stomach. “Holy shit,” he sighs when he gathers enough composure to speak. “’Memory foam’ my arse. The springs under that thing are giant.”

“Or you’re just tiny,” Phil gushes affectionately, combing a hand through Dan’s hair. The feeling of silky waves between every finger are enough to chase away any remaining claws of anxiety, any pegs to his stomach, if just for a moment.

Maybe it is okay. Maybe it is just a product of an overactive mind. He’s been so wound up recently, what with looming examinations and deadlines and just about everything he could really do without so close to Christmas, that maybe it’s manifesting itself oddly.

Maybe.

He doesn’t want to think about it right now. He swallows the feeling down with another mouthful of beer, the bubbles foaming up like lather in his mouth.

“Shut up,” Dan glares at him, rearranging his fringe. “I’m not that short.”

“He’s mini,” Phil jumps back into conversation, as if Noah he can’t see for himself

“Short people deserve compensation for the amount of shit they go through,” Dan mutters, feigning grumpiness, but the shine in his eyes tell Phil it’s difficult to feel anything other than utter bliss.

“Ah, so you admit it!” Phil’s eyes match the light. “You are short.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Dan blushes, realizing what he’d insinuated.

“Don’t worry, Dan,” Noah chips in. “Phil’s been the same height since he was about twelve. I remember him in year seven,” he glances at the other boy. “You were terrifyingly tall. But then everyone else caught up.”

Phil rolls his eyes. “Yeah, there I was thinking I was some sort of superhuman. Twelve years of age and almost as tall as my dad. They used to call me Slenderman.”

“He looked like Mike TeeVee at the end of the film,” a giggle ripples through Noah.

“I can’t even imagine what he-” Dan frowns. “Mike who?”

Two jaws drop. Silence.

“You’ve never seen Charlie and the Chocolate Factory?!” Noah spits as if it be as outrageous an exclamation as never visiting Sainsbury’s.

Dan’s eyes dart to Phil, blue eyes wide.

“Not even the original?”

“No, I-…” his eyes flick between the two mirroring expressions. He huffs out a chuckle. “Is this really a big thing? Okay, well I’ve never seen Shrek, while we’re at it.”

A collective groan echoes through the walls.

“You’ve got to be fucking-“

“But it’s a-“

“Please tell me you’ve seen Star-“

“Not Wars, or Trek,” Dan cuts him off. “I don’t even know the difference between the two.”

“Dan, I-…” Noah cuts himself off with a sigh, staring at Phil. “What are we gonna do with him?”

“This is a crime,” Phil shakes his head. “This is actually outrageous.”

“If the most offensive thing I’ve done since arriving here has been not sitting through three hours of an ogre’s life, I’ll definitely take that.”

“Oh don’t you worry,” Noah leaps up off the mattress, grabbing his laptop from the revolving chair. “It’s about six hour’s worth in total.”

“Seven-and-a-half if we count the spin-off,” Phil chips in.

“Do we have to?” Dan whines. “I’m sure I’ll love it, but with all due respect I can’t even sit through films I like sometimes.”

“Are you implying you’ll dislike this?” Phil puts a hand on his chest in mock-offence.

“I said I’m sure I’ll lov-“

“Could watch Star Trek,” a voice pipes up from under the bed. Noah’s folded over to one side, the rustling of a carrier bag apparent. He adds, “not Wars, I can’t stand- Phil stop giving me evils you shit, it’s just not as good.”

Phil’s glare toward his turned back turns into a grin. He knows him too well.

He re-emerges clutching a six-pack of bottled beer, tearing one out of the cardboard and dropping it into Phil’s lap.

“He’s talking shit,” Phil mutters.

“I don’t know what to believe,” Dan smirks. “Star Trek is just Shrek with extra letters.”

“We’re gonna have to culture you up, Dan,” Noah shakes his head, thrusting a bag of popcorn almost the size of his torso in his general direction.

“God, you came prepared,” Phil notes. “It’s almost as if you knew we were both here.”

“I could hear you both from down the corridor,” Noah fires back, before adding “Plus you two are inseparable anyway. If I needed to find you, I’ll find you,” he points at Dan, then at Phil. “And vice-versa.”

Phil and Dan exchange glances. Do they really spend that much time together?

It’s difficult to calculate. They spend time apart, obviously. It’s not as if he’s sat in Maths with Dan pirouetting all over the place with a feather duster, but once are done and the final document has been closed; once the day’s duties are behind him, he can’t say he wouldn’t be found tearing from East wing to West; desperate to drop his workload and swap computer chairs for soft mattresses and lamplight.

They’re melting into each-other, and he can feel it.

Noah smirks, and only says, “We’re performing Alice in Wonderland next week,” his eyes flicker to Dan. “Have you seen that?”

Feedback is always appreciated literally HOW IS THIS pls let me know i haven't posted anything in years i love u all for reading thank u so much

i spent a good 15 minutes attempting to calculate the total running time of the shrek franchise im crying the things i DO i hope its accurate

#phan #phanfic #dnp #dan and phil #phan au #illaks #i posted this to ao3 ages ago but never did here apparently

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crashdevlin · 5 years

Text

Civil Warriors- 1: Oversight

Civil Warriors Masterlist

Author’s Note: Originally posted to ao3 (This is an edited and improved version) Part Three of the Red Queen Chronicles!

Summary: Cassie Campbell refuses to sign the Sokovia Accords, but it’s not about pride, it’s about right.

Word Count: 2643

Pairing(s): Clint Barton x OFC,

Chapter Warnings: tiny bit of angst and some good fluff, foreshadowing the badness

Cassie sat on the couch in her home in Seattle, drinking coffee and reading through the newspaper. "Did you see this, babe? The United Nations drafted up a law in response to the thing that happened in Nigeria."

"Yeah? What's the new law?" Clint called from the bedroom.

"It's pretty fucking oppressive, actually. Basically, superheroes have to answer to them. Go where they say, do what they want. They decide who our villains are and what is acceptable action against them. All known superheroes are expected to sign these Sokovia Accords."

"And if we don't?" Clint walked in, a piece of pizza in his hand. "If we decide to hero without the UN's consent?"

"If we hero, we end up the next ones on the arrest warrant, hunted down by the legit heroes."

Clint took a bite of the pizza and flopped down next to her. "Good thing we're retired."

"I didn't retire. I took a break. I wanted to finish my degree." She slapped the newspaper into his lap. "This is... ridiculous. We can do things that cops can't do, that the military can't do. To dictate when and where we can go to do these things... what happened in Lagos was horrible, but all the people in that building's courtyard would've blown if she hadn't done what she did."

"Some would say that Rumlow wouldn't have activated that bomb if Steve hadn't been there."

"No, he wouldn't have. But if Steve hadn't been there, he would've gotten away with a weaponized disease that would have caused hundreds more deaths in the long-run!"

"You know an awful lot about what happened in Lagos. Have you been heroing vicariously?"

Cassie looked down. "Nat and I have been talking."

Clint sat up straight, turning to her. "You and Nat? Are good, are friends?"

"Yes. We’re good. You remember Pepper took me out for my... '9 months after conception when they took me out of the goo and let me breathe on my own for the first time' day? And we had a girl's day with Maria? Natasha came along, we had some free mimosas, got our nails and hair done. We had fun, decided we actually liked each other. She said I was good enough for you and I think that was all I really needed to hear to let go of my grudge about the cocktease comment."

Clint smiled. "So, you and Nat have been talking about everything that they've been doing? What, you wanna go back?"

"Not yet, but... we might have to."

"What do you mean?" He asked, munching on the pizza again.

"I mean this is gonna tear us apart. There are going to be heroes who find the idea just as oppressive I do, who refuse to be controlled, and they are gonna rebel. This is gonna cause in-fighting and pain."

"Yeah. And we are gonna stay out of that because we're retired."

"Bullshit," Cassie said, standing. "And get the pizza out of the bedroom, Clint. We've talked about this. Lucky gets into it if you leave it where he can-"

"It's in the side table. Lucky can't open drawers, yet."

"I don't want him scratching at the furniture, either, dude. Put the pizza in the fridge."

"I'll put you in the fridge," Clint mumbled, heading for the bedroom.

"Home, sweet home!" she called out.

"Shit! You know I didn't mean it like that," Clint said, walking out of the bedroom with a cardboard pizza box.

"I know. You just don't think before you speak sometimes," Cassie said as her phone started to ring. 'Natasha' shined up at her. "And here we go," she said, picking up the phone from the coffee table and answering it. "Yeah?"

"Is Clint with you?" Natasha asked, her voice serious.

"Of course, he is. He hasn't left since Christmas."

"Put me on speaker. I have to talk to you both."

"About the Accords?" Cassie asked, pressing the button to send the Russian's voice to speaker. "'Cause I'm not signing."

"I'm retired." Clint walked up next to Cassie.

"This is a big deal. You have to, at least, think about it, guys."

"Think about a group of men who've never been in a room with a supervillain telling me when and what I can do about those villains? Do you think those men would have let you guys come after me when I was with Loki? Do you think they would've let you come to rescue me when I was in Austria?"

"Look, we need some oversight. What happened in Lagos-"

"I'm gonna hate myself for using these words, but 'acceptable losses', Nat. Yes, a dozen people died in Lagos, but Rumlow was gonna blow up everyone in the courtyard. The amount of damage done was cut, at least, in half and these are your words. And when you add in the fact that Rumlow almost got away with a biological weapon... but you didn't know that going in. You thought he was going after the police station. You never would have gotten approval to stop him on that partial information. He would have gotten away with it. Hundreds, maybe thousands, would have died."

"Clint... talk some sense into your girl."

Clint shook his head and smiled at the younger woman. "Natasha. You are my best friend and I love you, but... I don't love you enough to go against the Queen."

"Look, I'm gonna tell Ross that you're on the fence. TBD, just like Wanda. Think about it some more."

"No need. This is an oppressive law and there will always be heroes who do the job without permission. If we wanted to be under the command of a government or governments, we'd have joined up with the Army."

"I'm telling Ross you don't have an answer. You have three days. Think about it," Natasha said, before the phone clicked off.

"Well, I really wanted to be retired, but I get the feeling you just signed us up for a war," Clint said, wrapping his arms around her.

"I didn't sign anything."

"And that's the point." Clint pressed his lips to her cheek and squeezed her. "How long, you think, before this blows up in our faces?"

"The Russian said three days, so... we'll get maybe four."

"Okay. So... head to the farm, drop off Lucky with Laura and the kids before our next big issue?"

Cassie nodded and turned to him. "I love you. You know that, right?"

"I know. We can head out tomorrow, okay?"

"Maybe we'll have time to do something fun with Lila and Cooper before things get bad."

"Ooh, water-skiing. Coop was sayin' he really wanted to give that a try."

"Yeah, but what about Lila?"

"You think she can't water-ski?"

"I think I'm nervous about the water-crash."

"Hey, if Laura goes with it, we can. Come on, we're a circus family. We ain't scared of crashin'."

Cassie laughed. "I love you, circus freak."

"I love you, Frankenstein."

***********************

"Aunt Cassie! Uncle Clint!" Lila ran in as soon as they entered the house. She wrapped her arms around Cassie's middle as Cooper walked in and went for a half hug with Clint.

"Mom and Nate are sleeping."

"Good. Babies and mommies need nappies." Clint laughed. "I don't know why I said it like that."

"Cause you're a dork. And since when am I your aunt, little girl?" Cassie looked down at the little blond girl in her arms.

"Mommy said that the only one she's ever seen Uncle Clint look at the way he looks at you was Aunt Bobbi and he's bound to put a ring on your finger soon."

"Oh, she said that, huh? Gonna have to have a talk with your mommy," Clint grumbled.

"Anyway," Cassie said, pointedly. "Lucky is out in the yard. He's begging for some fetch after that long car ride. You kids up for it?"

The kids ran for the door, excited. "Laura needs to learn to keep her mouth shut."

Cassie turned to him. "Ah, come on. I'm sure it's just more of Lila wanting cousins."

"No. It's Laura... running her big fat mouth," Clint said, putting his hand in his pocket. Cassie's eyes widened as she focused in on the ring box. "I had this whole speech planned, about second chances in life and destinies and stuff, but..."

"Clint... what are you-"

"I can get down on one knee if you want. I mean, that's not really our style, but I can go classic with it, if you-" He smiled, opening the box and bending his left leg. "If that's what it takes to get you to say 'yes' and make me the happiest cliche in the world."

"Don't you dare," Cassie said, pulling him to her and kissing him, her hands burying in his hair.

Clint pulled back and brought the ring up to her face. "It's white gold. Diamonds and sapphire inlay so you can still punch people. I know you don't think you were born, but September birthday, sapphires."

"I don't care about the ring, Clint," she breathed out.

"Yeah, I get that, what with you not looking at it, at all. Also worrisome, you haven't said 'yes', yet."

"Clint, you could have tied a string around my finger and I would have said 'yes'." She laughed. "I'm saying 'yes', Clint."

His lips crashed onto hers again as she grabbed the ring box from his hand. "About damn time. He's had that ring for two months," Laura said, walking into the living room. "So, this is how you do it, Clint? What happened to candles and a string quartet and all those reasons you gave for holding off for the last couple months?"

"Yeah, well, that's how I was gonna do it. I was even gonna ask Tony for his blessing as a funny take on the fact that he's more of a father to you than, you know, anyone else. And I kinda got Phil's blessing at Christmas, like he said there wouldn't be an issue." He shook his head. "But then a Hydra agent decided to blow himself up in Nigeria, the UN decided to make our friends sign up to be international mall cops on their payroll, which fractured us and... shit's gonna hit the fan soon and I wanted to know that, that you're with me through all of it."

"Of course, I am," Cassie said, slipping the ring on her left ring finger. She chuckled in surprise. "It fits."

"Yeah. I measured your finger in your sleep."

"If that weren't so adorable, it'd be creepy. I love you, Clint. I can't wait to be 'Cassie Barton'."

****************************

"Oh. That's not good," Cassie muttered, as the news played.

"A bomb hidden in a news van blew up in front of the UN building in Vienna. More than seventy people have been injured, at least twelve are dead, including Wakanda's King T'Chaka. Officials have released a video of the suspect, who they have identified as James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Soldier, the infamous Hydra agent linked to numerous acts of terrorism and political assassinations. They're urging anyone with information to contact authorities."

"Clint!" Cassie called. Clint walked in from the kids' play room, a hammer in his hand. "We were discussing four days 'til excrement/fan collaboration? I was wrong." She hit rewind on the DVR and replayed the news.

"Shit. Bucky, that's... that's Steve's bestie, right?"

"Bucky was Steve's Nat. They took care of each other, since they were in school together. Bucky got grabbed by Hydra and brainwashed into being an assassin for them. Steve didn't sign, but there is no way he's gonna sit back and let this shit happen. No way he lets anyone else bring Bucky in," Cassie answered, leaning forward to grab her phone. She dialed Steve and waited. "You're about to do something stupid, aren't you?"

Steve chuckled. "It's only stupid if I get caught."

"What're the consequences if you do get caught? 'Cause I got the feeling the consequence is jail time. Captain America in jail, just seems wrong."

"Like I said... consequences are for if I get caught. If I don't, then I can bring Bucky in with minimal damage."

"Steve, when have we ever done anything with 'minimal damage'? That's the reason the Accords exist."

"I'm going to bring him in... even if someone has to arrest me for doing it."

"Look..." Cassie spun her ring on her finger. "You know Clint and I didn't sign, right? You know, if you need us, we're here."

"Well, I've got Sam on location with me. He's already... pretty much agreed to put himself on the line with me for this. But, thanks. I appreciate it. Oh, and, um, congratulations. I heard about-"

"Nat's got a big mouth. Thanks, but this isn't really the time, is it? Bigger things, that's why I didn't announce it like I'm sure a bride-to-be is supposed to." Clint smiled at her, taking her left hand in his and kissing the back of it.

"Well, I thought you were retired. This stuff shouldn't have anything to do with you."

"Come on. I went on hiatus, fully intended on coming back after graduation. Clint retired, not me. And he's not very good at being retired, either. Listen, Steve, seriously. Be careful. I don't want to have to come visit you with a piece of superhero-proof glass between us."

"I'll keep that in mind, Cass. Enjoy your... retirement."

"Not retired."

"Well, maybe you should be. I'll call you after... if I can."

"Right. Be careful."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Oi, old man. Don't 'ma'am' me."

Steve chuckled again. "I'm gonna miss being an Avenger with you."

"Sometimes, Steve, the end of one thing is the beginning of everything else."

"I'll keep that in mind. I'll call."

"You better." Cassie pulled the phone away from her head and looked at her fiance. "I think we should get our shit together. Just in case. Steve thinks he's got it pretty well in hand, but I wanna be able to hop on a plane to Europe as soon as he calls."

"Of course. I do want to try to take the kids out on the lake, though."

Cassie giggled as Cooper and Lila could be heard in the play room jumping for joy. "Water-ski! Water-ski!"

"We'll go tomorrow morning. Today, let's go out to eat. We'll mall it up today." She lowered her voice and sighed. "I need a bag so I can bring the staff along with me."

"Oh, you're gonna let the Berserker come to play?" Clint's voice was apprehensive.

"I... want that option. I mean, against a suit of armor or two... Berserker strength might be a good..."

"You're pretty strong without the-"

"Clint... I know what it does to me and it scares me, too, babe, but... Sif and Thor think I'm strong enough to deal and... I've come back from it."

"But... you slept half the day after last time and you only had it in your hands for ten minutes, and... you had some-"

"Anger issues after. I remember. It's a Berserker staff. It's not a 'cuddly, happy memories' staff."

"Well, I'd rather you fight with a regular staff. I've got that bow that turns into a bo."

"That joke wasn't funny the first time I heard it, and it isn't funny now." She ran her hand down his face, lovingly. "It'll be okay. It's adrenaline. Massive amounts of adrenaline and my body can take that."

"What about your mind? It pulls out all your worst memories and uses them as fuel for that adrenaline."

"I don't want to talk about this, anymore, Clint. I'm taking the staff. I need a long locking box or suitcase so that no one else can touch the thing."

"When this messes you up, Cassie, I'm not gonna hold back with the 'I told you so's."

"Noted, Hawk."

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