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[clerichoard]

the spurning of the prince

finn/imbris, royalty AU, 24k. tw for parental abuse. finn belongs to @clericofchaos!

lord altham had proposed some ludicrous plans over the years, but this one is by far the worst. imbris absolutely refuses to woo the prince, and he certainly won’t let himself be wooed either.

crown prince finnley has his own ideas.

read here!

[clerichoard]

when inches are miles

(or five times shen and ahaz almost kiss and one time they actually do)

the prequel to this (@darlingicarus​), shen & ahaz, atla campaign, 4.5k

i.

It’s subtle, the change in himself. He feels like he’s on the edge of something but he can’t place when he even stepped towards it all. It’s like suddenly he’s there; holding his breath and praying that he won’t step off.

Sometimes when he thinks Shen isn’t paying attention, he’ll catch Ahaz just...looking at him. It’s unnerving more than anything else, and it’s definitely nothing new, but now- after that night when Shen let him hold him close- Shen can’t help but look back. Even if it’s for a moment. There’s something heavy pushing at the vault door in his mind and he’s not sure how much longer he’ll be able to keep it there.

He’s desperate for it to stay where it is and leave him alone (he knows he’s not that lucky).

So he starts a fight. He picks at the scab until it bleeds and tugs at the seams that have been holding them together as best they can.

They’re staking out a target, a possible slaver, and sitting on the roof of a building across the street from the target's supposed warehouse.

“Were not going to kill him, you know.”

The words come out of him in a rush and he doesn’t even realize how harsh they sound until Ahaz is looking at him with his eyebrows raised and his mouth set in a firm line.

“I thought we were over this by now,” Ahaz says carefully, like he’s stepping on eggshells. To Shen it feels like he’s stomping across them at all times.

“Maybe I’m not,” Shen mutters and moves away from the ledge. He always looks away, a coward and a fool wrapped in one. “It’s fine.”

“Apparently it’s not, dear,” Ahaz is saying as he follows close behind Shen. Shen has pulled them away and he regrets it the moment he does.

“Just drop it,” Shen says evenly as he turns back towards Ahaz. He stops suddenly in his tracks and they’re- very close. Close enough that Shen hears the stutter of his breath and feels the always present heat rolling off of him.

“I don’t want to kill him,” Ahaz says slowly. “Okay?”

The look Ahaz is giving him sends a traitorous shiver up his spine. His eyes are soft and his voice is quiet and- he’s looking at Shen in a way he can decipher. He has all the clues and the intelligence to piece it together, to let himself realize what look Ahaz is giving him exactly.

Ahaz looks down at his lips and Shen can feel his hand rise on it’s own and grip the sleeve of his jacket.

He wishes for a moment that he could let himself piece it together.

Instead, he pulls away. Like always.

“Fine,” Shen says and even he hears the light quiver in his voice. He clears his throat and moves back to the ledge.

Ahaz takes a moment to move back to his side. A heavy weight settles somewhere in his chest and it only moves again when he spots their target moving into the warehouse.

“Let’s go,” he says to Ahaz who grins at him, but it doesn’t meet his eyes.

ii.

Shen has determined that fate truly has it’s fun when it plays with his string. It seems the universe is determined to keep Shen as the unluckiest man alive.

“Darling, could you maybe turn another way? I’m afraid the doorknob is digging into my stomach.”

Shen opens his eyes and yes, he’s still stuck in a storage closet with Ahaz.

“Maybe you should try and make yourself smaller,” Shen grumbles as he rubs the bridge of his nose.

“A little hard at the moment but I’ll make a note of your request later on,” Ahaz quips back.

Shen begs his brain to be quiet as Ahaz shifts against him despite Shen's best efforts to keep to the corner. Clearly this storage closet was not made for two grown men to fit inside of it.

“How long do we have to stay in here?” he asks quietly.

They had been investigating in a closed off area in an estate when a guard had made his way around the corner. Shen had spotted the closet and pulled them both inside and had been regretting it ever since.

“Not much longer, hopefully,” Ahaz says, his ear pressed against the door and his eyes closed as he listens. They slide open to look at Shen as he raises a slow eyebrow. “Why? Are you worried about what this will do to your reputation, darling?”

And there’s that endearment again. How had Shen managed to get so used to it? Right now it feels heavier than ever with the air so thin between them. Even the insinuation that Shen worries about his reputation at all goes over his head with Ahaz pressed against his side.

Shen glares up at him, though it’s hardly one at all when he meets Ahaz’s gaze. Shen has to shift to look up at him and- oh. His chest is pressed against Ahaz’s and there’s barely a few inches of space between them. Any annoyance he felt at the previous endearment fades with the gaze that’s pinning him to his spot.

Ahaz angles his head away from the door. He moves his arm until it rests lightly on Shen’s shoulder. Shen doesn’t blink or move or even breathe as he feels the warmth of a hand seep through his clothes to his skin. If it stays too long he’s sure it’ll stain him for good.

Ahaz is looking at him so intensely but there’s a question behind his eyes. Shen can’t answer it.

The non answer seems to shut Ahaz down as he sighs and drops his hand.

“It should be clear now,” he says. Shen nods once and opens the door, moving past Ahaz as quick as he can.

iii.

There are many nights that Shen can’t sleep. He’ll find himself out on the porch or balcony, or roof if he can manage it, more often than he’ll find himself in bed at wherever they’re staying for the night.

Tonight it’s a front porch at an old inn in the middle of nowhere. It’s raining softly and Shen has easily formed his hand from the water dripping onto the porch. His unlit pipe sits in his other hand where he’s debating on lighting it for well over an hour.

The nightmare had involved smoke and he’s not sure if he’s ready to risk it just yet.

There’s a creak from behind him, followed by a set of loud footsteps. He’s sure they’ve been made purposely loud in order not to scare him. He already knows who it is who sits next to him and pretends to act a little surprised when Ahaz greets him.

“Can’t sleep?” Ahaz asks politely. There’s been many nights where Ahaz will find him like this. Most nights he’ll join Shen for a while, share the pipe for a bit, before following Shen back inside when he goes. Some nights, the nights when Shen is still shaking from the nightmares that continue to haunt him even when he wakes, he’ll talk. Ramble about anything, talk about his flower shop back home. He mentions his grandparents often, of their sweet kindness and how they cook his favourite meals when he returns to them.

It’s a solid to lean on when he’s sure he’s lost complete control of reality. He doesn’t know if Ahaz knows how much it means to him but he doesn’t plan on telling him any time soon.

Tonight, the nightmares don’t haunt him. Ahaz takes the pipe from between his fingers; Shen burns where their fingers brush against the wood. He summons a small flame to light it and takes a drag of it himself before handing it back to Shen.

“Thanks,” Shen mumbles. He takes a long drag, and Ahaz starts talking.

It’s mundane today, thoughts of the road and of some of the people they’ve met. He talks quietly, mirroring the rain in it’s delicate dance. Shen feels as if he’s been put in a trance as Ahaz speaks. He allows himself to look at him tonight, the memories of the nightmare pushed aside for even scarier thoughts.

He entertains a brief thought of what if? What if he let Ahaz break through the hole he’s been making in his walls, instead of reinforcing them further? What if he opened his vault door and let himself feel?

He’s reminded of the nightmares and what happens when he thinks about what he feels. Of who he is when he allows himself to feel the empty anger that plagues him.

No, it’s better this way, he thinks. Better to hide behind walls then to tear yourself into pieces over the thoughts in your head.

Ahaz is still speaking when he returns to the moment, though he’d gotten closer in the time it took Shen to rehash the inner argument that’s been with him for months.

He pauses as he meets Shen’s eye. The pipe has been forgotten, herbs almost burned down to ash, as he returns the gaze. The internal struggle from moments earlier disappears as Ahaz looks at him.

He moves closer and Shen goes still as his eyes flash down.

The rain still falls quietly behind him, the smell of the herbs in his pipe still linger in the air. The world has not stopped simply because Ahaz seems to have leaned even closer, still, but Shen is sure that it will if Ahaz deems to press their lips together.

The door creaks and Shen jumps away. Ahaz moves back slowly, blinking as if he too had been in a trance.

Bai-lee stands in the doorway, yawning.

“Are you guys alright?” she asks. Her voice seems too loud for the moment and he flinches against it.

“Fine. We’ll be in in a moment,” Ahaz responds, already pulled himself back together as he stands. He towers above Shen, offering him a hand.

Shen looks away and shakes his head.

The heavy steps retreat from the porch until it’s just Shen and the rain and a burned up pipe.

iv.

For the most part, his arm doesn’t bother him. He bends a water one when he can, when he really needs it, and has no issue doing most things with his right arm. He’d had to learn how to write with it and that was fine.

There are days where it’s still too much, too fresh. Where the phantom limb pain destroys him from the inside and the memories torch what’s left.

On those days he meditates alone, smoking the herbs that calm the burning pain and using the breathing methods he was taught after...everything. The bending helps and when it’s bad, he tries to find a river to surround himself in.

Today is one of those days. They’ve fought a band of rogue spirit and searched the woods for a missing person, and traveled miles in search of an okay place to make camp. Shen had requested they find a body of water but by the time they’d found a safe place to put up tents, there was no water to be found.

All through this the pain has been eating at him. He’s been waiting for hours to settle and smoke the rest of his supply to not feel anything but Suni had needed healing and Maya had already exhausted herself on Bai-lee earlier.

So he waits. As soon as watches are offered, he says he’ll take first and even second if they’d let him.

“I’ll watch with him,” Ahaz offers when the girls looks a little wary of leaving Shen on watch by himself for so long.

“I’m really fine,” Shen says through his clenched jaw.

He feels everyone’s gaze on him as his shoulders pull up to his ears. There’s a quiet conversation that happens behind him and as the girls settle down to sleep, Ahaz sits down next to him on the rock bench Bai-lee had created in front of the small fire.

Shen tries his hardest to ignore the searching look that Ahaz is giving him and turns to pack a very large quantity of herbs into the end of his pipe. It’ll do for now, though he vows to to turn to the rest later to really make sure he won’t feel the throbbing pain at the end of his left arm.

The silence between them sits uncomfortably on his chest, tightening the longer it goes on. By the time he’s made it halfway through the pipe he’s had enough of it to last a lifetime.

“Why are you staring?” he asks. There’s an inflection in his voice that he doesn’t put there; an undertow of a subtle creeping feeling seeping through the cracks in his walls. The more he smokes, the more will flow out as the walls become transparent with his drug addled mind.

He finds he doesn’t care right now.

Ahaz huffs a short, empty laugh and leans his head back to stare up at the sky. “I think we both know the answer to that.”

He takes a long drag on the pipe and sighs out a cloud of smoke. The pain in his arm has melted and his brain has begun to settle into the haze that’s surrounded it. Maybe he does know why Ahaz is staring. Maybe he’s realized at some point he’s going to run out of places to hide. Maybe Shen will look one day and Ahaz will have stopped looking back.

Maybe it’s the last one that scares him the most.

He offers the pipe to Ahaz who takes it swiftly from his fingers. When he exhales the smoke, he turns his head away, tilting it in the other direction. Shen frowns.

“I don’t understand you,” Shen says finally, slowly, like it’s being pulled out of him through molasses.

Ahaz laughs again. Shen doesn’t like it when it sounds so hollow.

“I hate to tell you, darling, but that’s my line,” he says. He turns back to Shen, closer than before. Shen doesn’t make the connection that it was him who shifted down on the bench until Ahaz raises an eyebrow at their sudden closeness.

He hands him back the pipe and Shen takes another long, slow drag.

Then, without moving, exhales just as slow. Ahaz shuts his eyes as Shen blows the smoke in his face and watches with mild curiosity when Ahaz leans into the smoke.

They’re much closer now. Ahaz opens his eyes and looks down through his lower lashes at him.

If he wasn’t as high as he was, maybe his brain would have supplied the fact that Shen is openly staring at his lips. Unfortunately, his brain has thrown facts to the wind.

Ahaz seems to be much higher than him because his hand reaches up and rests against the curve of Shen’s neck. Like it belongs there. It’s warm and heavy and calloused but Shen doesn’t resist against it.

“Is this what you want?” Shen asks through the haze they’re both steadily wading through. Ahaz blinks- once, twice- and a frown pulls over his handsome features. He finds he doesn't like it there. Wishes he could press his fingers against the corners and lift them up.

Ahaz drops his hand and moves away.

“Not quite,” he mumbles. His hand runs over his face and he turns his head away. “Not like this.”

They sit in silence for the rest of the watch and Shen can’t help but feel like he’s done something wrong, but by the end he’s too tired to even remember what it could be.

v.

It happens so suddenly that there’s hardly a moment for Shen to stop it. One moment, his assailant is raising his sword and the next- there’s Ahaz facing him.

The point pierces through the front of his shirt and Ahaz blinks at him, blood spilling from the wound.

Then- he smiles. It’s soft and blurred at the edges with blood colouring his lips a dark red, but he seems like he’s accepting the sword in his gut. Shen hears himself yell, “No!” sounding like it was ripped from inside of him. When Ahaz falls to his knees, Shen goes with him, hands flying to the wound.

The sword is pulled from the wound by the man behind him and Shen acts on old war-forged instinct. He looks up and bends a whip of water that knocks him off his feet and sends him flying backwards.

He stops paying attention to the battle after that. Distantly he hears Bai-lee yell something at him and feels the presence of Maya beside him but all he can see is the blood on his hands. Spilling from Ahaz’s stomach. Dripping down his chin as he smiles.

“S’okay,” Ahaz mumbles, his eyes slowly falling shut. “It was worth it.”

Shen is still trying to heal the wound when Ahaz’s hand reaches and presses into his own. It’s slick with his own blood but he still manages to gently squeeze it as his body fully slumps onto the ground.

He pushes every last bit of energy he has, but he had already used so much in the battle, and Ahaz had already been fighting for so long, and he’s not breathing. He pulls water from the earth and wraps the brown liquid around the wound but nothing is working.

He’s been here before. He’s seen this before, he’s tried so hard to bring back the dead. But this is different. It’s Ahaz. He’s practically invincible. He can’t die.

There’s no pulse when he checks. There’s no pulse and Ahaz has just taken a sword meant for him- and he’s dead. He died for Shen and nothing he can do will bring him back.

He tries anyways.

The battle has died around them as he continues to bend dimly glowing water around Ahaz’s broken form. He realizes some of the water is coming from him, that he’s collecting the tears streaming down his face as he desperately still tries to heal him.

He remembers Ahaz telling him that he loved him. It feels so very far away now, Ahaz sitting in the bathtub covered in horrible scars and burns. How he had said the words so simply, so casually, like it was already a known fact between the two of them. He thinks of how Ahaz never mentioned it again, how he probably never even remembered saying it, but how he was still there. With his darling’s and his smiles and the way he would stare.

Ahaz had been there the whole time and now he was not. Shen feels the horrible realization hit him all at once: he’d never be able to tell him. He doesn’t have the strength to think the words but he knows them. He’s known them for while. They linger behind everything, waiting to pounce on him from the shadows.

It’s too late now. For once in his life he wants nothing more than to relive his past and dwell longer on the moments spent between them. Wants to stay forever on a porch with his arm pressed against Ahaz’s own and a pipe passed between them.

He feels a hand on his shoulder and there are voices murmuring softly to him but there is nothing anyone can do. If the spirits have taken him, he is gone from here.

No, he thinks, not yet.

There was a book he read many years ago when he was studying to become a healer.  One that said there was a way to bring the dead back, to channel your healing energy enough to recapture the thread of life and hold on tight.

He closes his eyes and thinks of nothing at all, closing himself off to everything but the water.

He opens his eyes when he hears a sharp gasp of breath, feels the life flowing back into the man in front of him, and drops the water he had pulled from everywhere around him.

The ground surrounding them for a few hundred feet seems to be leached of life but Shen can’t spare the brain power to care.

Ahaz is breathing, his eyes darting open, taking in his surroundings. Shen bends forwards and takes his head between his hand and the one weakly made from dark water. When he presses their foreheads together he hears a soft whimper come from Ahaz.

“Didn’t think I’d be seeing you so soon, darling,” Ahaz manages between wheezing breaths.

“You idiot,” Shen whispers. He’s still crying but he can’t find it within himself to mind. “Why would you do that?”

They both know why. Ahaz laughs softly.

“Because I would do anything for you,” he says, his words quiet and serious and Shen opens his eyes to find Ahaz’s own tired ones staring right back.

He wants to kiss him, he realizes. The want fills him like nothing else has, ballooning inside of him until he’s filled to the brim with it.

But Ahaz’s eyes flutter shut softly. There’s a moment of panic as he thinks that he’s gone, but when he presses his fingers to his wrist there is a steady pulse.

Shen slowly lowers his form back down to the ground, gets up, and walks a great many feet away before collapsing into the dirt. He digs his fingers into the earth until he can’t feel them anymore.

The words sneak up on him again. He can’t ignore them anymore.

“I love him,” he whispers to himself, out loud, to the world around him.

It’s enough. It has to be enough.

+1

There isn’t much to be said after that. The girls busy themselves with cleaning Ahaz up once everyone has rested and it takes Ahaz a few days to recover. He’s in and out of sleep those days and Shen avoids being near him when he can. He has to check on his wounds but chooses to do it when Ahaz is in a very deep slumber.

They reach a town and an inn a few days later and Shen has managed to keep a clean professional distance from Ahaz whenever he’s awake.

Once they meet eyes over the fire and the question Ahaz has behind his own is enough to send Shen stumbling to his feet, begging off to bed.

They check into the inn and everyone gets their own room, thankfully. Shen practically runs up the stairs to his room and locks himself inside as soon as he enters. He doesn’t know how long it will take for Ahaz to finally talk to him but he plans on getting his thoughts in order as much as he can before then.

How can he explain that he doesn’t know how he brought Ahaz back from the dead? That he doesn’t know how he could possibly be powerful enough to invoke that kind of energy?

That he doesn’t know when it began, but it crept up on him all at once, and now he doesn’t know where to run to put this feeling back where it came from?

They don’t bother him, only insist he come down for meals after a whole day spent in his room.

He comes down for breakfast the next day and feels everyone’s eyes on him when he takes the only empty seat next to Ahaz. He feels like they did it on purpose but knows that he’s been sitting next to Ahaz for months. It would be weird if he didn’t sit next to him.

The familiar warmth of him does nothing to help his mess of disorganized thoughts. He doesn’t look up from his rice the whole meal.

When he moves to stand, he knows that Ahaz will follow.

He’s halfway up the stairs to the rooms when he hears his footsteps on the steps behind him. He’s never been one to be light on his feet.

When they reach Shen’s door, Ahaz finally speaks.

“You- you were crying,” he says slowly. The words are so quiet that Shen thinks if he breathes too hard he’ll shatter them. “I would not have you cry over me but. It was...:”

He moves closer and Shen presses himself against the door, the knob digging into his back.

“I thought I was dead,” he says after a moment’s pause. “I thought I’d died, and I thought you were there to bring me forwards. Because I- because you’ve saved me so many times before. I thought perhaps it was because of how I trust you.”

Ahaz’s hand lifts and raises, hesitating inches from his cheek. He looks...agonized as he tries to form the words to whatever sentence he’s trying to say. Shen’s brain has gone blessedly blank. Ahaz meets his eyes and there’s a flash of determination there before the hand gently rests against his cheek.

“I am fond of you, a great deal, and I know you know. You must, by now,” he says. “There have been so many times I would have liked to say it but- dying, or dying and living again, has put a new perspective on it. I thought I should simply- say it.”

He steps forwards and Shen has to raise his chin to continue meeting his eyes. Ahaz’s own flick down to his lips.

“I thought I should ask...or I wanted to ask,” he says softly, his thumb gently tracing a circle onto the pane of Shen’s cheek. “If I could continue to be fond of you. If you will allow it. If you will have me stay.”

Shen knows his eyes have gone wide-eyed at this point, and Ahaz’s own are so soft but scared. Like after so many times this asking, and telling, is scarier than any enemy they’ve faced. Ahaz is offering his heart to him and waiting with baited breath.

They’re closer now, Ahaz has managed to close the distance further, and Shen’s own eyes have settled on his lips. Not stained with his own blood and not pulled in an annoying grin and not settled into a thin firm line. They’re simply there, parted lightly.

“May I kiss you?” Ahaz whispers.

It’s almost funny. He remembers the moments that this has happened so many times before, where they’ve almost come together time and time again, and this time Ahaz asks.

Shen nods. A simple quick lower and raising of his chin.

They meet somewhere in the middle. Ahaz places his other hand on the side of Shen’s face and presses their lips together so achingly careful that Shen reaches out and grips Ahaz’s shirt between his fingers. He squeezes his eyes tight as Ahaz pulls back and kisses him again, this time angling his head to pull him closer and kiss him deeper.

Ahaz pulls away and Shen rocks forwards, chasing his lips for a embarrassing moment. He collects himself and stares, wide eyed as Ahaz smiles. It’s a bittersweet, melancholic smile.

He leaves Shen standing shell shocked in his doorway, words sticking to the back of his throat like glue.

[clerichoard]

☼  sun saviour  ☼

my aasimar cleric of sarenrae, valen, for pathfinder: kingmaker! 

[clerichoard]

long distance charges

finn & imbris, rockband au, 1.7k

a thousand miles really puts a dent in the phone bill.

for @darlingicarus​ for what may have been a prompt at one point

Finn's been away for a month when he gets the call.

“Charlie is lost without you,” Imbris says. “He won't stop calling me bro, and we both know how I feel about that.”

Finn grins at on the other side of the line, hearing the scowl in his voice even across the country.

“Ay, just tell him I miss him or something. Buy him a beer and say it's from me,” he offers. “Still gonna be a while. Family shit.”

Said 'family shit’ was his parents requesting that while the band was on break from touring that he spend the whole holiday season with them. After about a week they were sick of him and both went travelling for work until Christmas, leaving him all alone in a huge house in New York. For three more weeks.

Imbris sighs into the phone. “Yeah, I'll tell him. He's real put out, Finnley.”

Finn closes his eyes and bites his lip against asking if Imbris misses him too. So far they've avoided having any conversation that involved feelings other than the song that clearly put all of Finn's on display.

Instead he says, “So, you ever have phone sex?”

Imbris hangs up on him.

Finn is staring up at the ceiling of his room with a glass of some expensive ass liquor from the cabinet resting on his chest and his phone up to his face. He sends a simple, “u up” to Imbris' and waits.

The phone begins buzzing in his hands and Finn promptly drops it directly onto his face. He also manages to answer it with his nose.

“-really sent me a booty call text!” Imbris is saying once Finn manages to get the phone to his ear.

“You do have a great ass,” he points out. Imbris snorts.

“Oi, isn't it like-” There's a pause as Imbris struggles to get the time difference right. Finn doesn't even try. “-2 am there?”

“Probably,” Finn agrees. “Been drinking. Expensive shit.”

“You're drinking with your family at 2 am?” Imbris sounds appalled but not surprised. Finn guesses it has to do something with his own personality.

“No family for another two weeks,” he says, taking a long sip from his glass as he sits up. “Big empty house with lots of good alcohol.”

There's a beat of silence. Then: “Sounds like you're having fun.”

Finn shakes his head and then remembers Imbris can't see him. “M'not. Wish…I was with you,” he mumbles. He can almost see Imbris in his head, sitting on his own bed in his shitty LA apartment he barely uses. For a moment his brain pretends that they're both on the same bed. It's nice.

Imbris still hasn't said anything.

“I'm drunk, baby,” Finn finally says through a yawn. “And tired.”

Imbris sighs, quiet and soft. “Go to sleep, Finn. Night.”

“G'night,” Finn mutters as he lays back down, moving the glass to his table.

In the morning he finds his phone still on a call with Imbris on his pillow. He can hear soft snoring on the other line.

“Please be serious, for just one fucking moment, Finnley.” Imbris’ angry scowl fills the screen and Finn grins back at him with raised eyebrows.

“Your ass looks great in both,” he tells him. Imbris scoffs and flips to the back facing camera. He's holding up another pair of jeans in his hand.

“Just doesn't scream press conference to me,” he mutters as he turns to one side, examining the outfit from another angle. Finn bites his lip and looks him over from head to toe.

“Not a whole lotta things to scream about at press conferences,” Finn says. “Though I'm sure I could change that if-”

Imbris squawks and Finn has the great delight of seeing Imbris’ face turn dark red as he frantically presses a button on the phone and looks around at the store behind him. Finn laughs loudly, and even though he's sure Imbris muted him in time the reaction was priceless.

Imbris takes the phone back into the fitting room with him and only then does he unmute it and scowl at Finn.

“I am in public,” he hisses down at the phone. “Do you have any self control?”

Finn raises an eyebrow. “Sometimes. Kept my hands off you for like a year, didn't I?”

Imbris rolls his eyes and sets the phone down as he moves out of view.

“I don't know why I thought you'd be helpful,” he's saying off screen. “I should really stop having any expectations, whatsoever.”

“That's how I live my life, you're never disappointed, babe,” he sing-songs, and he can hear Imbris’ groan off screen. His head pops back in and his hair is a mess from the shirt he's just pulled on. Finn feels the urge to fix it for him- but he's a thousand miles away.

“The first jeans,” Finn says, seriously. “They're less slutty and the press will dig that. The second pair are for me when I get back.” He grins and wiggles his brows. Imbris’ face goes red, again, and Finn feels an enormous amount of satisfaction at it.

“Good bye, Finnley.” Imbris scowls and Finn wishes he was fast enough to screenshot it as the call ends.

Finn uploads the video and ten minutes later his phone begins to vibrate across his bedside table. He doesn't even need to look at the caller ID to know who it is.

“Hey, babe,” he answers, grinning already.

“Don't you hey, babe me you- you shit,” Imbris is growling on the other side. “You absolute prick! You can't just- you can't just upload something like that!”

Finn has the video open on mute on his laptop in front of him and laughs loudly. He feels stupidly warm and giddy.

“Why not? Thought the lyrics were pretty good,” he quips. Imbris squawks on the other line.

“You can't just- write a Christmas song! About-” Imbris hesitates. “-About your feelings.”

“Dunno, writing a love song worked pretty well for me the first time. Thought it might make you remember how I feel,” Finn says, almost seriously. “Left out the lyric about my boner for you, if that helps.”

He hears the distinct clatter of a phone being dropped and Imbris shouting shit as he scrambles to pick it up. Finn bites his lip and imagines the dumb little scowl Imbris definitely has on his face.

“Please don't upload any songs about your boner, ever,” Imbris says after he finally gets back on the line.

“No promises,” he laughs. There's a moment of quiet and Imbris starts to say something then cuts himself off, twice.

Finally, he says, “When's your flight home?”

Finn's heart jumps in his chest. Home. He'd never really thought of LA as home before but now- it's where the band is and his favourite taco shop and that gay bar that plays their music and, well, Imbris. This big empty mansion was never really where he belonged.

“Next week,” he replies. “Two days after Christmas. Why? You miss me?”

It takes Imbris a moment to scoff and say no, you shit like he always does but Finn smiles anyways.

“Get ready for New year's, babe, we're gonna get trashed out of our minds,” Finn tells him, laughing at the inevitable groan.

“See you in a week, idiot,” he says.

Finn unmutes his video and puts the phone microphone right up the laptop right as the lyric ‘Christmas is lonely without you,’ plays.

The flight home is the worst one Finn's ever been on. It gets delayed in the layover in Dallas and Finn spends three hours hating every person in the airport. He only gets stopped by two fans and he makes a note to tweet out an apology to them for being in a mood later.

He texts Imbris and lets him know his flight was delayed and to have a beer opened for him once he gets to his apartment. He gets the rolly eye emoji in return.

The LA flight is worse, even in first class. There's heavy turbulence most of the way due to a large storm sitting over the west coast and Finn is too queasy to even consider drowning his mood in alcohol.

Thankfully the plane lands safely and Finn only has his carry-on because he's sure with his luck any checked bag would've been lost.

He strolls through the airport with sunglasses on since he's sure the bags under his eyes are less than appealing and only takes them off for security. He's already halfway through a text to Imbris at the arrivals gate when he hears a loud, “Oi!”

He looks up sharply and watches as Imbris comes barreling through the crowd to launch himself at Finn. He barely has enough time to steady himself as Imbris’ arms wrap around his neck and his legs are around his waist.

The kiss is a hard press of lips and Finn can't help but grin against it even with his sunglasses pressed awkwardly into both of their faces.

Imbris pulls back a moment later with a scowl as he shoves the sunglasses up into Finn's hair. Finn takes a moment to stare a him, grinning, and notes the dark shadows under his eyes as well. His hair is artfully mused and his t-shirt is ripped at the collar and the jeans-

“You're wearing the jeans,” Finn gasps. He clings to Imbris’ ass like a lifeline and bounces his knees. “You wore the jeans!”

Imbris grins wickedly as he takes Finn's face in his hands and kisses him. This time Finn kisses him back, with all the pent up frustration of not being able to do this for almost two months.

Someone clears their throat and they both pull away. Finn blinks as he notes both Charlie and Jarli standing nearby raising their eyebrows.

Finn drops Imbris, Imbris squawks, Charlie and Finn bro-hug for a long minute. A fan comes over and they all pose for a photo.

Finn can't stop staring at Imbris.

Later, when they're laying in bed, naked, Imbris put his head on his chest.

“I missed you,” he says. Finn beams down at him.

“I missed you too.”

[clerichoard]

i recently played fallen hero: rebirth and my main takeaway (apart from the fact that i love it to death) is that every sidestep needs a fucking nap. so here’s two for the price of one!

(nadya is mine, hawthorne belongs to @clericofchaos)

[clerichoard]

♡   S H E N   &   A H A Z  ;  

what if you didn’t run? 

this one time. what if you stayed,

and let love overtake you?

for two dramatic bastards entirely at odds with each other, and the slowest dance of negotiated understanding. shen belongs to @clericofchaos ♥

[clerichoard]

brave new words

selcouth - unfamiliar, rare, strange, and yet wonderful. prompted by @german-naruto-opening. thank you!

sorrel x imbris, childhood friends/high school AU, 1.3k words.

so they’re dating now, which is great, but imbris still has his doubts. he knows himself pretty well, after all. (sorrel belongs to @clericofchaos)

It’s been a month since they started the whole boyfriend thing.

Not that Imbris is counting, of course– except he’s totally counting, and he knows Sorrel is too, because Imbris had looked at the wall calendar and seen ‘1 month’ written there in Sorrel’s handwriting beside a little smiley face and a love heart, and had spent a good ten seconds trying to swallow the weird too-big feeling in his chest before he recovered enough to start giving Sorrel shit for it.

They spend their one month anniversary doing homework in Sorrel’s room. Or rather– Sorrel is doing homework. Imbris is lying on the bed, feet up on the headboard, playing games on his phone and providing wildly incorrect algebra answers.

“One month huh,” he says offhandedly, soon after it’s been established (for the fourth time) that x can’t equal 69, Imbris.

Sorrel glances up from his textbook, offering him a particularly dopey smile as if they hadn’t already talked about it. “One month,” he echoes happily.

Imbris hmms low in his throat. His phone makes a little victory sound as he completes the current level, and then cuts off abruptly as he swipes out of the app. “Impressed I haven’t fucked it up yet?” he sighs. “I know I am.”

The steady scratching of Sorrel’s pencil falls silent. “Hey…” he says, a note of disapproval in his voice.

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[clerichoard]

side to side

they dance. not much more to say about it than that. 

finn x imbris, dance au, 1.2k words. finn belongs to @clericofchaos.

“Everloft,” Joanne calls, hands on hips as she surveys the room. “You and Finn, on deck. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

There’s a whoop from the other side of the dance studio, followed by a scattering of laughs and catcalls as Finn swaggers out from the gathered dancers. Imbris snorts derisively and shrugs off his jacket. The asshole had been bragging all week about how he ‘fucking destroyed’ this routine. Time to see if he’s right.

(He’s right. He’s really, regrettably right.)

Dancing with Finn is an experience even under normal circumstances, let alone with choreography like this. It starts out simple enough, each of them on opposite sides of the studio, movements hard and fast to match the music. But then the chorus ends, bleeding into the bridge, and the fast-paced steps culminate in a spin that sees Imbris’ back pressed flush against Finn’s chest, held in place by the arm slung low around his middle.

The studio erupts into wolf whistles. Imbris rolls his eyes.

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[clerichoard]

“What do stars do best?” “Mmm…complain?” “Oh fuck off.”

a Stardust AU for Finn and Imbris because bickering duo turned accidental couple is pretty damn perfect for them. (Imbris you dumbass everyone can see you glowing, you’re not fooling anyone) ✨

Finn belongs to @clericofchaos!

bonus:

[clerichoard]

TWITTER AU ➤ EX ANIMO 🔥

featuring Alto (@druidkestrel), Bran (@cityandking), Faith (@heeyrebecca), Orla (@noswearwolves), Middy (@ me!), Shade (@clericofchaos) and Kestrel (@druidkestrel). made with this

[clerichoard]

hang time

The mission is a blue-eyed man dressed in gold, and the Asset cannot understand why he knows him. [enikö & sorrel, ensemble. 3k. avengers au.]

based on this art by @darlingicarus to whom sabine incidentally belongs. sorrel belongs to @clericofchaos; vola belongs to @noswearwolves and nenny belongs to @heeyrebecca.

hang time (n). –– the period of time a self-launched object stays in the air before it begins to fall

.

For a moment he is weightless, and then his body remembers to roll and the world spins for a moment and he lands upright, hand braced against the asphalt, staring up at the Target who look down at him and says,

“Nikö?”

It echoes in the space between him, just enough to catch him off guard, just enough that he stops to take stock of the target. He rises slowly, staring at the mark, who stares back at him with mouth slightly open and hair in disarray, red welt across one cheek, and his eyes open wide and––

Blue eyes staring, horrified, and the sensation of plummeting, and––

“Who the fuck is that?” he asks, words too loud in contrast to the ringing silence inside his head. The target stares back at him, wordless.

It takes him a moment too long to process the snapshot of–– of what he does not know (memory) and so it takes him a moment too long to raise his firearm again, and in that moment of confusion one of the Target’s associates skids into the fray. She ducks his wild shot and slips beneath his guard, laying into him with a series of lightning-quick blows that jolt him out of any shredding uncertainty and back to the mission at hand.

Later, though, later, while they work on the dented plating of his arm, he stares up at The Man In The Suit and tastes the edge of understanding like blood in his mouth.

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[clerichoard]

the brilliant Ari @cityandking suggested an Avengers AU for one of our D&D parties and frankly it’s inspired so I had to scribble out a couple of things (refs definitely used). in order:

Sorrel as Steve Rogers (@clericofchaos)

Enikö as Bucky Barnes (@cityandking)

Vola as Dr Bruce Banner (@noswearwolves)

Sabine as Natasha Romanoff (@ me!)

Nenny as Wanda Maximoff (@heeyrebecca)

Wick as Clint Barton and Ali as Peter Parker (@druidkestrel)

click for better quality!!

[clerichoard]

HERE ♢ Δ ☠ ₪

GREAT THANKS!

♢ - flexible stretches

I don’t want to do this to you but it’s between Tamiren and Ruin and that’s that. 

Δ  - borrowing a friend’s pencil and never returning it

Oh my god. Finn, Loreth, Temper, Shade probably. They’re all equally terrible. Finn would probably chew on the pencil and then offer it back, Loreth would just casually pocket it when you weren’t looking, Temper would just. Break it in half when she was done with it. Shade would…sell it in some weird school black market. They’re all so terrible. 

☠ - punching someone out 

Sorrel, but he wouldn’t want too! He’d do it only if he had to. Or maybe if you really, really, pissed him off (rip imbris’ dad).

₪ - charming others

Finn. I hate it but it’s Finn. He’s so good at charming people. He charms people into doing to stupidest shit. He has the charisma of someone who should know what they’re doing, and yet. 

[clerichoard]

for the oc ask meme: ✗ ❃ ☢

ah thank u!!!!

✗ -  lying

Shade. He’s a con artist for a living, lying is in the job description. (though almost all of them are very good at lying, varania kinda breeds that in people)

❃ - dancing with a partner

Tamiren & Loreth, probably. Loreth learned somewhere in his five years under the empress’ thumb, Tamiren at the many balls he’s attended under the guise of someone else to steal something valuable. (dancing together is another thing altogether; undercover for the rebellion somewhere maybe, surprised at each other’s knowledge of the skill)

☢ -  tailing somebody

Kale, who literally is invisible to darkvision when in darkness, blending in so well that you wouldn’t notice him until there’s an arrow in your throat. Tamiren is a close second since he is the king of thieves, also in the job description. 

[clerichoard]

♥▶✦✿ and ☁!!!

thank u ari!!!!

♥ - parenting

Sorrel is the only one out of all of them who would be a good parent oh my god (whether or not he would actually want any one day tho remains to be seen). Maybe Tamiren if he ever found safety away from literally everyone in Varania.

▶ - comforting a friend

Inessi, who is kind and compassionate and understanding. She’s a very comforting presence despite what she may think of herself. 

✦ - public speaking

Finn. Whether or not what he says is something people wanna hear, he does it with the most confidence. By the end of it he’s persuaded the audience that he’s maybe not an absolute idiot after all. 

✿ - caring for a garden

Floris! He loves plants and i feel like having druidcraft is a bit of an unfair advantage but! Floris with his hands in the dirt and wearing a sunhat…really great. 

☁ -  insulting others 

Temper? Shade? Loreth? they’re all equally terrible to people. Temper is probably the most openly hostile to every person she’s ever met but Shade would be the most creative. Loreth just insults people by existing let’s be real.

[clerichoard]

Send a symbol to see which of my OCs would be the best at...

♥  Parenting

☑ Hiding something in their room

▶ Comforting a friend

✗ Lying

✯ Saving money

✄ Fixing a broken table

♫ Playing musical chairs

✎ Drawing realism

♕ Poetry

◌ Cleaning up

✦ Public speaking

≡  Ice skating

❃ Dancing with a partner

♢ Flexible stretches

☽ Taking care of the sick

❣ Styling hair

✿  Caring for a garden

Δ  Borrowing a friend’s pencil and never returning it

↱ Navigating roads

☢ Tailing somebody

✏ Remembering important dates or numbers

❂ Fishing

♣ Baking sweets

☁ Insulting others

☠ Punching someone out

₪ Charming others

▓ Hiding

[clerichoard]

the way things happen here

middy & loreth, <1k words, varania campaign.

@impossibletruths asked for middy + the hug that comes after a rough day, so I went with one of the roughest of days. tw for descriptions of gore and violence. loreth belongs to @clericofchaos.

She is twelve years old and three blocks from home, and she’d ducked into a dead-end alley to check her take, which is– stupid, stupid, she knows better than that– and by the time she realises she’s not alone there are only narrow brick walls and long shadows and– the man.

There is nowhere to run. He has his hands around her throat before she can think to throw dirt in his eyes, and then he is squeezing, and her feet are dangling far above the ground, and there are hazy black spots gathering amidst her tears.

He’s nobody she knows. Just a stranger. Wrong place wrong time and all that. Nothing personal.

Middy fumbles her knife out of her belt and sheathes it clumsily in his throat.

Keep reading