#i also think its really funny if fem medic is pulling her hair out trying to figure out how to talk to the devil

[dragonroilz]

ive been looking at the female merc concepts that valve made back in the day and it really made me think about how a lot of the more popular female mercs are just genderbends of the original mercs.

nothing wrong with that, obviously, but i think it's infinitely more fascinating to treat them as their own characters since if valve had gone through with female mercs, theyd probably exist alongside the ones in the game.

anyways, meet the medic! she's a physician from britain who practices "natural medicine". not with normal things like herbs. stuff like "you have a cold? well, they say that drinking a single drop of lava from a volcano will fix you right up! ill go ahead and write a prescription~"

she has a belief that modern medicine is wrong and wants to change it from inside of the system. not because she thinks patient care can be improved, but because crystal tonic has medicinal value guys. trust me.

in addition to that, she's got a real fascination with the spiritual and demonic. after all, who cares about how you attain immortality? you have your entire unnatural lifespan to smooth out the rough parts!

have some rough sketches for when i was searching for a design too!

[mydearneteyam]

Hi! I was wondering if you’re still taking requests if so i was wondering if you could do a oneshot of so’lek x na’vi fem reader who is a warrior but is told not fight by medics and even so’lek at the resistance since she has chronic back pain but downplays it and acts as if it doesn’t affect her.

Like for example she goes on her own to fight rda despite what the medics say and comes back limping around as if nothing happened

I hope you understood that and sorry if its too long. I wanted to request this cuz i really like your writing so id really appreciate you if you make it, if you dont its totally fine.

A WARRIOR WHO CAN'T FIGHT ;; SO'LEK

summary ;; a warrior's stubborn behavior may change over time. or maybe not.

pairings ;; so'lek x fem!na'vi!reader

warnings ;; mentions of war, body pain, insecurities.

word count ;; 2.3k

word of the day ;; nawkx [nawk’] n. bone helm rhino

You cut the rope with your teeth, spit some of it out as you finished knotting and securing the basket you had accidentally broken earlier. You knew you were taking your time, but if you wanted your lie to stand, you had to try your best.

You stretched your body forward a bit more, almost crashing your chest into the ground to finish tidying everything up and gave a sharp inhale to stand up, feeling the sharp pain spread through your lower back, as it always did every time you had a sudden movement.

"And now…" with your foot, you lifted the fruits into the air so the basket could pick them up and once you were ready, you turned your attention to the path you'd had memorized forever. You were coming that way, you were going back that way. "On your way" you spoke to yourself, smiling.

Yes, there was a little blood on your clothes, but it wasn't yours, so your concern was minimal. You didn't abandon your big smile, even when, upon arriving at the headquarters, some humans already seemed to be waiting for you outside, with grimaces of obvious annoyance.

"You know what we told you! Are you even listening to us now?" one of them asked, but you swung your leg over his head, humming one of your clan's songs, disinterested. The tingling was present again, but as you threw your trunk forward, it stopped after a few seconds.

"Mother who brings us honor and life…" you continued to sing, putting the food aside and obviously ignoring the doctors at your back. Ha, funny. "Guiding our hearts through every strife..."

"It's not funny!" shouted your name this time one of the girls. "Do you think your life is just a game? You said you were going fruit picking and look at you!"

You analyzed yourself from head to toe, cocking your head to the side.

"Yes… and I brought fruit." You showed the basket, crammed with several, brightly colored and some not so much. "Finding a campsite a couple of minutes away wasn't something I expected either, but hey…" you laughed, tousling her hair. "That's on you guys for not letting me know it was so close. Maybe if you had told me, I would have given more thought to…going and helping out at all" even though you said those words, it was a lie. And you knew it. Everyone knew it.

Please, a Na'vi who would not want to go and put her life in danger knowing that her condition was thanks to the humans still in the land where she was born? It was impossible, you smiled, running your tongue over your teeth and pausing on your canines, with visible annoyance.

"You know you're not allowed to leave, everyone here has told you that. Even the warriors" she continued speaking, with concern and weariness in her voice. You had identified it for quite some time.

"I'm glad you have a good memory." you commented, pulling out a fruit and leaving your now arrowless bow in a corner. Although you looked at it from time to time, last time, they tried to hide it. "But I'm also sure you remember… that I'm an adult and I do what I do because I have to help my people…" your voice, as always, although understanding, was mocking. Maybe because the people who now cared for you annoyed you a little, always on you, as if they were your parents, as if it wasn't their own kind's fault that you had problems that now wouldn't allow you to fight.

"That's enough" you saw So'lek, just coming out of healings. You laughed a little to yourself, of course, just what you needed. Send the best warrior to talk to his own race. You ate some fruit, walking away from the place, grabbing your bow again and hissed at the pain in your back that bending over just a bit generated.

"Yeah, I think that was enough time off" you spoke between grunts. So'lek's scent reminded you of what you couldn't be and being in the same space as him complicated you. You didn't hate him, but you envied his state. Healthy, free, not needing humans to follow him wherever he went because his back worked perfectly fine.

Everything you couldn't be.

...

"How are you feeling?" asked Dr. Alma, looking at you passively. You scoffed, but shrugged, not responding. "Anything new to add?" you denied. "Everything as usual?"

"As usual" you concluded, trying to stand up, but the wires attached to you stopped you, you only managed to move the machines with you and the woman's hand rested on your shoulders, seeking to reassure you.

"Okay, I understand that this situation is not to your liking, but it's the only way you can get back to being better. That's what you're looking for, isn't it? To go and fight? To go back to being a hunter? A warrior?" she sounded almost sweetly, as if it wasn't something that was repeated to you every day. You sighed, taking the wires off in one fell swoop, tossing them aside and groaned as you stood up from the gurney, this time taking a couple of steps away from her.

"Be somebody, Dr. I want to be somebody again" you clarified, feeling the obvious annoyance in your body. Whenever you had revisions, something always told you to get out of there, the discomfort, your intuition, your instincts. You didn't belong in a place full of numbers you didn't understand or complex words only understood between humans or puppets.

Walking through the halls, you couldn't help but feel that the stares were heavier than ever. More than every day. You were a warrior, they must have been afraid of you! Why were they looking at you with pity?

As you left that space, that steel cage, you felt the scent of nature, the flowers growing around you, the animals talking to each other, communicating with life.

You noticed a small fire on one side. So'lek was there, checking his songcord. He seemed alone. You sharpened your eyes, wondering if it would be a good idea to approach him.

Whenever you saw him, you thought about how different they were. He was a full-fledged warrior, the humans respected him enough not to talk to him too much and many of the na'vi warriors from other clans who came recognized him for what he was, a brave companion and brother who sacrificed day and night for mother earth, for his people, for all the fallen, for each of you. You could take months counting day by day all those he had saved, throwing himself into danger. Even there you were, several times he had done his best to save you from the humans. When your arrows ran out, when your back pain was the most unbearable and left you helpless.

It was him. And that pissed you off. Because you always owed your life for him, but you could never save him. Because you couldn't. Your body couldn't afford something so extreme. As if it were ceramic, as if it were glass. Like an article of clothing that could easily be cut or snagged on a branch. That's why it was best to keep it tucked away, hidden from anyone who could hurt it.

"I see you, So'lek" you greeted, extending your hand towards him and he, with a calm look, nodded, closing his eyes.

"I see you."

You sat down next to him, getting into a specific position that could avoid the sharp pain in your lower back, almost reaching your thighs. You hissed, settling in.

"I see the pains are still present. The humans have not been able to help you?" he asked politely. You denied, squeezing your eyes shut a little and no longer feeling anything, you gave a sigh.

"Not really. I don't think they can do anything for me." you admitted, watching the wood burn for a few seconds. On the other side, So'lek was still looking at you, in a way you couldn't quite identify. You didn't want to believe it was pity. He should see you as an equal, shouldn't he?

"In the morning… Why did you go to the camp?" you watched him settle in and could almost feel scolded. "You could have hurt yourself on the way there and you don't have weapons like theirs. It was stupid. Impulsive."

"Because I'm stupid… and impulsive. Like a Bone Helm Rhino" you smiled at the last. They tended to call you that. You were stubborn, too stubborn not to accept that going and shooting humans was suicide for you.

"Yes, I think I see the similarity" he nodded and you looked at him. He mimicked your action and you looked down, not out of embarrassment, but out of discomfort. You weren't used to being close to him and a conversation couldn't lead you to that. "A warrior who can't fight… almost like a fable of our people…" he commented and you looked at him again. This time, you didn't look away.

"I don't like that title. I prefer something more ostentatious, like 'wounded warrior who follows to the death'" you tried to take the weight off your troubles, but you saw him settle back, cocking his head to one side.

"Bone Helm Rhino it is, then."

"A good title…if I knew how to wear it right."

"'Foolish inflexibility and unyielding determination are two sides of the same coin, Warrior" he commented, slowly getting to his feet, handing you some arrows. "You choose what you want to prove. Take a chance, but be wise with your decisions. Do not allow yourself to die. Your people… we are waiting for you at the end of the day."

You preferred to believe that the warmth spreading through your body was because of the campfire and not because his words were something that made you feel good. And for the first time in a long time, a feeling passed over the tingling that spread from your back down. Peace.

You looked at the arrows in your hands and settled back, hugging your legs. The bonfire would be extinguished before long, but you decided to stay outside a while longer.

" Unyielding determination…" you whispered to yourself. The only witnesses to that were the night and the small insects flying around. "Yeah, I guess that doesn't suit me" you laughed a little, for every chuckle, a little strum in your lower back pulled the muscles around it.

"Not even a little bit".

...

"You're doing good. Now, raise your arm a little more" you felt his hand tilt your elbow up and took a couple of breaths to keep from thinking about the pain. "How do you feel?"

"Like my insides are going to explode, thanks for asking" you spoke in a slightly higher pitched tone of voice and saw the opposite nod.

"Yes, I was told you might feel that way" you knew he wouldn't do it in front of you, but you noticed how he held back a small smile and you raised an eyebrow, grimacing "Eyes front. Both eyes open. You know where you need to aim" he indicated and you nodded. "Good. Shoot" you slowly released your breath and pulled the trigger.

"Perfect. You didn't hit the target. I didn't expect you to" he took the gun for you though. "The Kame'tire Clan's meds are just trying to take effect on you after all."

"So this was all just to make fun of me?" you asked, still in a bit of pain, but slowly dissipating. You denied, emptying the magazines.

"For testing. See if you could handle the gun and its weight. At least this way you can be more protected if you keep sneaking off to RDA camps" he commented nonchalantly and you got a little self-conscious.

"You don't mind if I go?"

"It's not a question of whether I care or not. It's about your safety. As long as you're secure and alive, I think I have worse things to worry about" he admitted. You smiled a little and before he left - because these 'classes' were brief because of his missions - you took his wrist.

"Thank you, So'lek. For… making me feel like someone again."

He hesitated a bit to respond. Avoiding looking you in the eye.

"You've always been someone. The only one who thinks differently is you, Nawkx" he nodded slightly and you let go. "But I'm glad I brought you back to a good view of yourself."

You smiled to yourself and cocked your head to one side, watching him leave. This time, there was no campfire to evade your thoughts about him.

But it didn't bother you at all to deny it.

"Thinking of something?" you looked to the side of you, So'lek arranged one of the feathers dangling from your hair. You shook your head, smiling as you set the basket full of fruit down in the center of the table. "I hope you didn't go to fight humans again?" you feigned indignation, with a chuckle.

"Me? Fighting humans? How dare you…" you cut the root of one of the fruits with the blade "After all, there are almost none."

"Exactly, almost. You always manage to find them." he reminded you and you rolled your eyes, turning to hug him. "Don't think it'll work like the old days… I can smell your lies."

"Oh, silly me, thinking I could outwit my mate with a show of affection so I could go fight like the warrior I used to be" you faked your voice, throwing your head back and reaching past your back, So'lek's strong arms held you.

"The warrior who couldn't fight and did it anyway. A good tale to tell."

"Just telling. Living it is a bit boring" you snuggled into the space between his neck, purring a little. A dry chuckle came from his throat and he nodded.

"I can imagine, Ma Nawkx."

a/n ;; it took me forever!!! i'm really sorry if it wasn't exactly how it was asked and sorry if it wasn't to your liking! i hope that in the future you'll still like to ask for another request! honestly i like how it kinda turned because i struggled at first how to write it 😔😔 i was listening to 'harpy hare' by yaelokre while writing this btw anyways, i love y'all ¡!

[cyberball]

video games

annabeth chase x reader / fem reader— no pronouns used \ requested

warnings: one innuendo, so 18+, our lovely annie punches you, that’s it?????????:)/?:£:!: i think

summary: reader comes back from a quest and has her humor broken

genre: idk at this point

notes: i’m so sorry this is so bad i. also this gif has nothing to do with the fic it sorry i just liked how it looked

13:21 / 527 words

“What the hell, you dumb idiot?!” Annabeth practically yells the second you arrive from the deadly quest you just finished, eyeing the many bruises that you didn’t have when you left.

Technically, it wasn’t supposed to be deadly, but you came into some obstacles on the way. Connor, your quest-mate chimes in, “yeah, it’s like, we said— come back safely, not gravely!” putting air quotes around the last phrase. You’re trying hard not to laugh at yet another dumb joke he’s made. Annabeth, with a deadpan face, replies, “That wasn’t funny,” — you couldn’t help but nod your head simultaneously while laughing — and immediately turns her attention back to you.

“You could have died!” she screams again. Now, you can either choose to comment on how she keeps screaming — and how you don’t like her screaming in that way — or how you haven’t died yet. The choice reminds you of a video-game, and that leads to you imagining Annabeth in a video-game, and you burst out laughing again.

AKA, Your sense of humor is broken. But you just came back from a deadly quest, so it gets a pass.

And you get a punch to the stomach from your lovely girlfriend. Now it’s your turn to yell. “Goddamn, what was that for?!” you exclaim, holding your stomach. “For laughing when I ask you a serious question.” she responds nonchalantly.

Now you’re either mad or sorry, but you forget which emotions you’re supposed to be, because the choice of ‘mad or sorry’ again, puts an image of video-game Annabeth in your mind, and you’re really trying your best not to laugh right now, despite the pain in your stomach really making its presence known.

Knowing Annabeth, you know she’s about to calm down in 3..

Her expressions relax.

2..

She hesitates in speaking.

1..

“Come here with me,” she says, grabbing your arm and turning around — very aggressively might I add. She leads you to the infirmary and after minutes that felt like hours, the medic finally leaves you both alone.

As you lay down, all of your pain has gotten significantly better, due to a great thing known as ambrosia. Annabeth is sitting by your side, and it’s not long before she starts playing with your fingers. Your expression, which was previously displaying some mix of hurt and worry, softens to see the gorgeous blonde hair that you couldn’t get enough of. You sit up again, to get a better look at the most gorgeous girl in the world. You can’t help but smile when she looks up at you, her eyes displaying so much love you felt overwhelmed. But just being with her, being able to love her, having her love you, is overwhelming at times. You’ve been dating for months, but she still manages to give you butterflies.

She presses her lips to yours and pulls away to rest her head on your shoulder. “I’m sorry for punching you,” she mutters, but the only response she gets from you is a chuckle. You use two fingers to lift her head back up, after which you share a much more passionate kiss.

“Have I told you how amazingly.. hilarious you look as a video game character?”

tagging: @chasingpj @drvrslcense (send an ask to be added to my tag list!)

[ineloqueent]

Starstruck: Part 2

Brian May x Fem!Reader

This is Part 2 of a multi-part fic. Click the links below to read the Masterpost, the previous part, or the next part of the fic :)

Masterpost / Part 1 / Part 3

Summary: When studying at Imperial College in the 1970s, your path is crossed by a beautiful boy as much in love with the stars as you.  

Warnings: swearing, slight sentiments of sadness

Historical Inaccuracies:

I realise that ‘Time Waits For No One’ was partially a composition by Dave Clark, and not only by Freddie, but I’d imagine that he’d have liked that whole concept anyway, before Clark came along with his musical.

The picture below is from Christmas Eve, 1969, but we’re going to pretend that it’s from February, 1975 :)

Word Count: 4.3k

‧⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧

You awoke with a terrible sadness in your heart, and heavy-limbed, you climbed out of bed to the sound of rain and somebody making coffee in the kitchen. With a look at your alarm clock and a start, you realised that it was already ten minutes past eleven.

You traded your pyjamas for slacks and a jumper Heather had once knitted for you, wondering why melancholy overwhelmed you as you combed your hair from your eyes.

Dazed by sleep, you wandered into the kitchen with a yawn shuddering your frame. You blinked blearily at the shirtless blonde in your kitchen who was drumming his fingers on the counter along to the tune he hummed.

“Roger?” you said, confounded.

He spun around with an equally bewildered expression, his hands raised as though he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have been doing.

His features broadened into a smile. “Y/N! You live here too?”

“Too?” you said. “Who else do you know here? And put on a shirt, Rog. You’re dressed if you’re in my kitchen.”

Roger stuck out his tongue at you, but pulled his shirt from where it’d been slung over a barstool.

You returned his lovely expression and he rolled his eyes at you in good nature.

You’d known Roger since you’d started at Imperial College and he’d started at London Hospital Medical College; you’d met him at the stall he kept in Kensington Market, selling clothes. Always talking about cars and his love for them, Roger was funny and charming, and quite intelligent, though the latter was a thing he downplayed in favour of his looks. You had never understood why boys thought that girls didn’t want a smart boyfriend, and when you’d mentioned it to Roger off-handedly once, visiting on a day he was working at the stall, he’d simply shrugged. “I’ll get them one way or another,” he’d winked.

Then, a sophisticated, sunkissed lad who was folding clothes had snorted from behind a clothing rack. “You won’t get her,” he’d said, referring to you. He’d then introduced himself with, “Freddie Mercury, darling. I can tell you where to find the nice boys, because Rog here isn’t one of them.” Freddie, of East Ealing Art College, was shy but creative, fashionable, and utterly lovely. He had known Roger since before school, and, aside from the clothing stand with Rog, was also in a band with him and a couple of others. Roger played the drums, and you knew that Freddie was an incredible vocalist, because you’d once caught him humming to himself and demanded he sing you more. You had fit right in with Roger and Freddie since day one, with your sharp wit and passionate romanticisms, and the three of you had quickly become good friends.

“So who’s the lucky lady?” you said, putting the kettle on for tea. For some reason, you didn’t feel like coffee this morning. The thought of its bitterness suddenly drew bitterness from you. “Or should I say ladies?” you trilled.

Roger smirked, leaned against the kitchen counter. “No, just the one lady. Think she’s still asleep, though, so try to keep it down,” he shushed.

You shook your head at him. “If she knows what you look like, she knows what you’re like, Rog. Don’t think you’ve got anyone fooled.”

“You’re such a good friend, Y/N. So supportive,” he drawled sarcastically.

“Funny,” you said, “I was told exactly the same thing last night, but I think he meant it, at least.”

Roger winced. “No getting down for you, then?”

You lobbed a coaster at him, but he caught it. “You need to stop just throwing things when you can’t think of anything to say, Y/N.”

“Stop being a prick, then,” you sassed him back.

“Okay, grumpy girl. Just because your little friend didn’t like you back.”

“For your information, he was actually very tall.”

A soft padding sound reached you from the doorway, and you glanced over to see Heather appear in the doorway, her mane of hair sticking up to one side and her pyjama top only half-buttoned.

“The hell is it with you people and shirts?” you muttered. “You’d think your mothers never taught you how to dress yourselves.”

Roger laughed at your comment, and Heather looked between the two of you.

“You know each other?” she said.

“Heather, honestly?” you scoffed. “My friend Roger who works down at the stall in Kensington?”

“Oh,” she said. “Same Roger?” You just blinked at her. “Common name,” she shrugged.

“You two know each other?” you gestured between her and Roger.

Roger’s smile was easy; he turned to Heather and his eyes ran over her, his lower lip between his teeth. Heather’s body language was obviously responsive.

“Ugh, no!” you said, rubbing your eyes. “Not a good image.”

“I thought we looked quite good together,” Heather flirted to Roger as you shuddered.

“Please don’t. Least not before breakfast,” you groaned, sliding off of the barstool as the kettle boiled.

Heather giggled, and you could still see Roger looking at her in your peripheral vision.

You busied yourself with making tea and pouring it into a thermos. Roger had walked over to kiss Heather, and you couldn’t get away from the sight of your two friends necking fast enough.

“I’m going out,” you said, grabbing the thermos, your keys, and boots.

“Oh, any chance you’re going to see Freddie?” said Roger from the doorway to the hall, arms around Heather.

You narrowed your eyes. “Why?”

“Got a message for him.”

“Could you not just telephone him?”

“There’s no phone at the stall.”

“Later, then?”

Roger frowned. “It’s important, please?”

You sighed heavily. “Fine, but only because I’m such a good friend,” you mimicked his words from earlier. “What is it, then?”

Roger grinned. “Tell him Clements says okay and eight o’clock sharp.”

Your puzzled expression seemed to amuse him. “I was going to tell you, but I’m sure Freddie will.” He waved a hand. “I haven’t got time right now.”

“You haven’t— oh forget it.” He’d gone back to snogging Heather, and there was simply no point in nagging him when it would be faster just to find Freddie.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

“Fred?” you poked your head around the stall, trying to spot him between the racks of colourful jackets and corduroy trousers, but failing for the life of you.

He popped up from underneath the table and you nearly leapt from your skin.

“Oh, hello, darling! How lovely of you to visit me,” he beamed, smoothing hair back from his face. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Jesus, Freddie, you scared me,” you exhaled laboriously, still recovering from your shock.

“Sorry about that, dearie. I’m afraid I’ve upset the moneybox and spilled it all under the table,” he said with an expression of dismay. “Help me look?”

You eyed your already questionably-clean trousers. “Yeah, alright then,” you said, squeezing into the stall beside Freddie. “Any idea how much was in there?” you asked as you sank to your knees.

Freddie lifted the cloth covering the table and threw it to the side. “Afraid not. Deacy usually handles finances and all that, after Norman Sheffield’s fuckery at Trident, y’know.”

You knew the soft-eyed, cheeky John Deacon as well. As the bassist in Freddie and Roger’s band and student of electrical engineering, Deacy (as he was known) was simultaneously the most well-mannered boy you’d ever encountered and also the greatest connoisseur of dirty jokes. Despite being only a year younger than you and Roger, Deacy was Freddie’s protegé, in a way, because Freddie had taken the younger boy under his wing in matters both of the musical world and of the world in general. You were quite sure that Freddie believed Deacy to be an innocent in need of protection, and that Deacy intended to keep his precious mentor fooled, particularly because some of the disco nightclubs that John had shown you and Rog suggested rather the opposite of his supposed personality. All in all, he was as dear to you as Freddie and Rog.

You laughed. “Freddie, this is just little coins. I’m sure you would’ve been okay to look after that.”

“Yes, well, not much time to count money when the most handsome men in London seem to stroll through this here market almost constantly,” Freddie huffed indignantly and you smiled in amusement. “Are you looking?” he said.

“Yes, yes,” you assured him, hastily picking up the coins in your immediate line of sight before beginning to scavenge for those which had rolled farther away on their escape routes.

“So, why are you here? I know you like our lovely little shop, but you’re usually studying on Saturdays.”

You sighed. “I probably should be. But Roger’s shacked it up with one of my housemates, my roommate, actually—”

“Heather?”

“Yeah, Heather.”

“Oh yes, he’s definitely her type,” gushed Freddie, spotting another coin and tossing it into the moneybox gleefully.

“He’s hers?” you said.

Freddie peered at you. “Well, really, Y/N. Roger’s type is everyone.”

“Fair enough,” you nodded. “And, oh,” you remembered, “I have a message for you, from Rog.”

“Ah. What’s it, then?”

“Uh, it seemed kind of cryptic, but he said you’d understand.” Freddie motioned for you to go on. “Let’s see. ‘Clements says okay and eight o’clock sharp’,” you quoted.

Freddie paused in his treasure hunt and clapped, “Oh, excellent!”

“Fill me in?” you pleaded finally, weary with excitement for that which you did not know.

Freddie clasped his hands. “We’re playing a gig, tonight, at the Union Bar!” he exclaimed. “We normally don’t play that small any longer, what with our increasing popularity, but we thought it would be nice to do a bit of an intimate concert once more, before we shoot for the stars and lose that privilege entirely.”

“Oh, that’s fantastic!” you said, knowing you were free tonight. You’d always wanted to see their band Queen, but the circumstances had never really lined up for you to do so, though Freddie had even offered for you to sit in on their rehearsals many a time.

“And you can finally meet our last puzzle piece!” said Freddie, his eyes alight. “Oh, he’ll adore you. Have I mentioned he’s studying some sort of science too? Maybe even similar to what you’re doing. I always seem to forget the name of it, though Bri is quite particular about it. He’d positively kill me with that glower of his if he knew I’d forgotten the name of it again. Oh, bugger,” Freddie went on. “It’s something to do with space. It’s on the tip of my tongue, I swear—”

But something had clicked inside of your head, and your palms felt oddly sweaty.

Freddie and Roger and Deacy had always referred to their fourth bandmate as simply ‘Bri’ or ‘Brimi’, or, in Fred’s case, ‘that bitch’, and so it had not occurred to you. You hadn’t known what he’d looked like, or anything about him, really, other than that he was a talented guitarist of a short temper and a motherly heart. But now you realised, with a fluttering sensation to accompany the thought, that you knew precisely who Brimi was, and that you had practically memorised his smile from seeing it nearly every morning of the past semester. Now, suddenly, the calloused fingers you had held in your own made perfect sense— Brian, the guitarist.

“Astrophysics,” you murmured softly.

“I’m sorry?” said Freddie, who had only just stopped in his flood of excited words.

“Astrophysics,” you repeated more loudly.

Freddie’s brow creased. “Yes, yes that’s it. I’d better commit it to memory, now. But how’d you know that? I’m sure I’ve never actually managed to tell you. I would’ve remembered such a momentous occasion.”

Your head felt suddenly quiet, though the thrum of your heart was sure to replace that silence with its own deafening beat.

You looked away, combing your fingers through your hair. “We’ve got the same morning class for our major,” you said, “and, uh, yesterday evening, when Heather went off with Roger, Brian and I had a drink together.”

Freddie gasped so vehemently that your eyes flashed back to him to be sure that he wasn’t suffering a fit or something.

“In that case, I’m sure he adores you already.”

“Freddie!”

“Think about it, Y/N! You’re both besotted by an absolutely absurd science that makes no fucking sense, and you’re friends with me and Roger and Deac already, so you must’ve gotten along like wildfire and a dry forestscape!”

“Freddie, that’s a horrible analogy.”

“That may be so, darling, but from the light in your eyes, you know what I mean.”

A strange blush engulfed your cheeks and you touched your fingers to your face, willing the flush to disappear. It didn’t.

“No idea what you’re on about,” you said.

“There’s still time.”

“Still time for what?”

Freddie threw his hands into the air. “For things to happen.”

“Nothing did and nothing will,” you countered, a little sternly.

“You’ll be lying to me before the month is through. I’ll find you more time with him, if that’s what you need.”

You ignored Freddie’s suggestive comments. “Time waits for no one,” you remarked instead.

“Now that’s a good line, isn’t it? Do you use it often, or would you mind terribly if I made something of it?” Freddie inquired.

“Pretty sure it’s a rather common expression, but I’m sure you’ll make something wonderful of it,” you said fondly, knowing his poetic habits.

Freddie winked at you. “I’ll certainly do my best. Now, I think we’ve got all the coins, so I say we get off of this filthy floor that the dust bunnies appear to have taken over, or what’s your view on the matter?”

“Time to depart the good Realm of Floor,” you agreed, stretching your creaking legs and giving Freddie a hand up.

“So you’re coming tonight, yes?” Freddie brushed dust and lint from his velvet trousers.

“Of course,” you said. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“You’ve missed all the other times, though,”

“I know, Fred,” you exhaled softly. “But I—”

Freddie’s hand covered your shoulder. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me, darling. We’re friends, remember?” he smiled comfortingly.

“And friends will be friends,” you responded, as you and the others had taken to saying, originally as a gag, but now as a sort of mantra to keep you going through the harder days.

Freddie smiled again. “Are you busy, or do you fancy going for lunch?”

“Sounds good,” you said. “Where were you thinking?”

“Just the pub. You know how much I enjoy their fish ‘n’ chips.” He meant Kensington Pub.

“Oh yes,” you recalled it very well. “I know.”

“Excellent! Well, I’ll just tidy up quickly and close, and we can be on our way.” You nodded, helping him to rearrange a few out-of-place things before he waved you off. “You don’t work here, dearie. We can talk about dear ol’ Brian while you wait for me, if you like.”

“Clearly, you’re the one who’s obsessed with him.”

“I won’t dispute that. He’s rather nice when he’s not attempting to control every little note of our music.”

“Which is... often?” you said.

Freddie nodded with ardour. “He’s got taste, mind you, but sometimes that taste just gets overbearing, if you know what I mean,” his tone was cheeky.

You folded your arms and leaned against the wall. “No, Freddie, I’ve entirely no clue what you mean.”

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

After lunch, the two of you took the tube from Kensington Station to Freddie’s flat.

Freddie opened the door to several different cats meowing at the return of their human, and he greeted each one by name, rubbing fluffy backs and scratching behind waiting ears as he passed.

The cats had encountered you many times before, and though many had at first been apprehensive at the presence of an outsider, they now greeted you as one of their own.

“I thought maybe you’d like to borrow a couple of our records to listen to before the concert tonight,” Freddie said, tossing his keys onto the kitchen counter and making his way over to where his record player and vinyl collection resided. He gestured to the crates and stacks of records, encouraging you to take a look while he retrieved Queen’s own works.

Despite the fact that your household contained a total of eleven people, Freddie’s music collection was far more impressive than that of your residence. Jimi Hendrix, Elvis, The Beatles, Led Zeppelin, and Aretha Franklin seemed to dominate the collection, but there was a heavy presence of classical and operatic compositions too, from Prokofiev’s Romeo and Juliet to Chopin.

“You have so many records,” you said, wishing there was more room in your monthly budget to spend on records, music that you could replay as much as you wanted, rather than waiting for— hoping for— the radio to cycle through your favourites.

“I’ve spent many years building up my collection,” Freddie told you, as though he knew what you were thinking and wished to remind you that such collections were not accumulated overnight; there was still all the time in the world for you to develop your own reserve of records.

“Ah, here we are!” he slid three volumes from a shelf, smiling fondly at the covers. “We’re not The Beatles, but I daresay we’re quite fantastic all the same.” He handed you the records, and you took them with care.

The first was mauve in colour scheme and depicted a person hoisting a sheared microphone stand into the air, illuminated by a singular dramatic spotlight. The second was a highly-contrasted rendering of all four members of Queen in (once more) spectacular lighting, and diamond formation. The third and final was all of them again, lying in a strange circular heap, eyes intense and skin shining with what was likely supposed to be sweat.

Your eyes strayed to Brian on the cover of the third album, the neck of his shirt pulled open, his lips parted and his eyes dazed. The image was suggestive, and Brian was attractive.

Blinking stray thoughts away, you tucked the last album behind the others and cleared your throat as subtly as you could manage. But Freddie had not thought you subtle; he grinned at you astutely.

“Rock and roll, then?” you said, though you already knew the answer. The point was, you were trying to change the subject.

“Rock ‘n’ roll,” Freddie emphasised. “We’ll have you educated in no time, don’t you worry. Homework is listening to those records. Come back again soon and I’ll swap you some Led Zeppelin and Aretha Franklin.”

“Varying taste,” you commented, desperately trying to coerce your mind from its previous focus.

“We’ve got to expand yours,” Freddie said. “Now go home and listen! We can’t have you standing mute and still in the crowd tonight! I plan on making sure you get up front, but I need energy from you for that to be justified, Y/N.”

“Okay, Mercury,” you smirked. “Such high standards, so demanding.”

Freddie sighed, “Got to be, darling. How else would I augment the quality of my music?”

“I’m definitely out of my depth here, Fred.”

He patted your shoulder. “Get out and go home and listen,” he said.

You made a face and Freddie stuck out his tongue at you. “See you later, dearie. Tell Brendan Clements when you arrive and he’ll get you past the crowds.”

“Fab. Later, Freddie.” You gave him a wave as you departed and he blew you a kiss.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

You supposed there was one good thing about Heather and Roger’s newfound relations. Well, maybe two.

The first was that you knew Roger and he knew you, and he knew that you would dye his hair permanently peroxide green if he ever hurt Heather intentionally.

The second was that, after this morning, Heather and Roger had headed off to Roger’s place for a few days, meaning that you were free to dance around your room to whatever music you wished without suffering shyness and embarrassment about your moves when you were inevitably discovered. Your other housemates worked most days, and conveniently, your shifts at the local cafe did not coincide with the absences of your household; you would now have the house to yourself quite a bit.

Having abandoned your boots by your wardrobe, you picked up the first record, simply titled Queen.

“Memorable already,” you murmured, feeling oddly exhilarated.

The record was on the deck by your bed within moments, and you flopped down atop your covers to enjoy the music in one of the purest ways you knew how— by lying back on your bed and spreading your arms and letting the melodies carry you away.

The energy kicked in immediately, and to the vivacity of the music you would have sold your soul.

Freddie’s voice was unrelentingly powerful, and unmatchable in beauty. You caught hints of Roger and Brian singing between the thrum of Deacy’s bass lines, their own instruments, and Freddie’s lead vocals, and the effect of the four of them together was unforgettable, astronomical, meant to make history.

Their talent as musicians was riveting if appreciated on its own, but Queen were artists too. How they could have thought up the stories they told, both through lyrics and without any words at all, you did not know.

Record after record, their voices rose together like waves, rushing over you and tossing you in their midst. You felt you were made of stardust, not only in the sense that everything of the past was still atomically part of everything present, but also in the metaphorical way; you felt light and heavenly, like you were floating above the ground, dancing on clouds.

Most of Queen’s songs, to your delight, made you want to dance— the best music made one want to dance. The songs that didn’t make you want to dance made you feel other emotions entirely— they moved you to tears.

By the time ‘In the Lap of the Gods… Revisited’ had signalled the end of Sheer Heart Attack, you had curled up on your side, gazing unblinkingly at the slowing vinyl. It wouldn’t have been too far off to say that listening to Queen's music felt like a transcendental experience.

When the needle passed the final break in the record’s surface and met the space between the break and the record’s central label, you leapt up. Immediately, you swapped the last record for the first, so as to begin the cycle of listening again. You wanted to, needed to, hear it all again.

How lucky you felt, to be going to the concert of such artists the very same night, and how serendipitous it felt to not only know, but to be friends with these artists.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

You had dabbed your eyelids with silver and outlined them in black, the way Freddie had taught you to, though you had never worn your makeup so until now. Your dress was a cotton-tulle mix, black and bell-sleeved, and spotted with flecks of silver like little stars; the effect was somewhere between casual and glam. A good balance, if you should be so bold as to say. Platform sandals completed the regalia, which you felt was a fitting way to describe the outfit which one wore to the concert of a band named Queen.

Between your third and fourth cycles of the three Queen albums, Heather had rung the telephone in the hallway across from your room.

“Hello, gorgeous!”

“Hiya, Heather,” you greeted her cheerily.

“I’ve been out all day, so I’m sorry if you’ve tried to get hold of me.”

“I’ve been out for a good many hours as well. Hope you didn’t miss me too terribly,” you sniggered.

“Pish posh. Not in the slightest. Been making out with Rog—”

“Stop right there, Heather.”

She made kissing sounds on the other end of the line.

“Remind me why you’re calling again?” you said, half-jokingly, half-seriously. Half-seriously because it was getting dreadfully close to eight o’clock, to Queen playing at the Union Bar. “And where are you, anyway?

“Calling to tell you Roger and his band are playing at the Union tonight, and to ask if you’re coming. I’m currently at said drummer’s place getting ready to tag along for said concert.”

“‘Course I’m coming,” you said. “Finest new musicians I’ve heard in years.”

Heather snorted. “You sound like my grandfather— top of the morning to you— finest musicians!” she laughed.

“Just because you haven’t actually heard their music yet,” you reprimanded her.

“About to. So this Freddie told you about the concert, like Roger said he would.”

“Yeah, our friend Freddie.”

“Oh. Oh god, Y/N, I’m fucking stupid. It’s the same guys as you usually talk about. I forget that. It’s like my mind thinks they’re part of some alternate reality, or something.”

“Please tell me you’re not on LSD.”

“No! I promised you I wouldn’t do anything silly for a month. You said LSD counted as silly, so despite being surrounded by all sorts of rockstars, I’m currently stone cold sober in every sense of the word.”

“Unfortunately, it appears you’re still under the effects of Roger Meddows Taylor,” you laughed.

“Shush, Y/N. He’ll think I’m some wacko already in love with him on day one.”

“You are a little bit, though, aren’t you?”

You could almost see her roll her eyes, see yourself respond with a knowing smile toward the insight that she was forever downplaying her emotions to seem less of a romantic than she was. But she was a romantic. Very much so. And she got her heart broken far too often for someone who loved as much and as wholly, as unconditionally, as she did.

“See you in a bit, mwah,” Heather kissed the phone and you cursed her loudness. She laughed at your string of obscenities and put down the phone.

With a final look in the mirror, hoping that your fashion choices had not been too bold, you swept out the door and into the night.

‧⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧

A/N: hello beautiful! thanks for reading this. just send me an ask if you’d like to be added to my taglist!

taglist: @melting-obelisks  @stardust-killer-queen  @hgmercury39​ @topsecretdeacon

Masterpost / Part 1 / Part 3

[scullyy]

To The Ends Of The Earth

Title: To The Ends of The Earth

Pairing: Clementine x Louis

Word Count: 2717

Summary: Clementine, Louis and AJ scope out the nearby Shopping Centre, disappointed in their findings, until someone finds them.

A/N: I started writing this like two months ago but I kept putting it off since I didn’t know how to end it. Also, Mitch is alive fuck you telltale

-

Clementine shredded down the open road, the wind keeping the loose hairs out of her face. Driving always brought her peace, it reminded her of Kenny and the chats they would have behind the wheel.

“You know I hate being a backseat driver, but could you slow down? I’d like to get there in one piece.” Louis chirped in from the backseat. Giving into Clementines wishes to drive the car was becoming an instant regret.

“And I’d like to get there quickly, we’ll be fine.”

Louis found it difficult to believe her as she skidded over a cracked roundabout. “Thank god for seat belts.”

“Are we almost there Clem?” That was the second time AJ had asked her, the annoyance in his voice clear as the sky ahead.

“We’re so close, it’s right at the end of the street.” Clementine briefly glanced at the map sitting on her lap, scanning over the red line Aasim drew out for them.

AJ’s question was properly answered when he spotted the towering grey building in the distance. It looked like a beast, never had he seen anything so vast. It kicked in his curiosity, giving his annoyance the boot.

Louis whistled in amazement. “I haven’t been to this place in years. Forgot how big it was.”

Clementine sloppily parked the car in the ground floor parking, running over a walker in the process. Her eyes scanned the area as she slowly exited the car. “We’re good for now. You still got that list AJ?”

AJ dug around in his pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, bringing out a confident smile from Clem.

“It’s your job to keep ahold of that, it’s got all the stuff we need on it.” Clementine passed Louis Chairles from the boot and hoisted her new baseball bat over her shoulder, closing the boot as quietly as possible.

Javi would be proud.

Louis took a sneaky peek at the paper. “What are we looking for again? I wanna get in and get out like my grandma used to say. ”

AJ squinted his eyes in an attempt to understand Clem's rushed handwriting. “Tape, bandages and fem..i..nine products.” He considered his pronunciation a win. His vocabulary had improved vastly thanks to Aasim’s teachings.

Louis playfully glanced at Clementine, wiggling his sharp eyebrows. “Does that include contraceptives?”

“Alright AJ, stay close.” Clementine marched inside the building, blatantly ignoring Louis. They snuck through the gaping hole in the glass, not questioning the pool of blood nearby. There were a few dead bodies scattered around the floor, all had bullet holes in their head. Clementine held AJ close to her, shielding his eyes from the massacre.

The centre was poorly lit beside the unevenly placed lights on the ceiling. Many of the stores had been ransacked in the early days of the apocalypse, leaving behind a ghostly shell.

“I really don't like our odds,” Clementine whispered into the stale space. “Keep your eyes peeled for the things we're looking for and anything else that could be useful.”

“Imagine if people could peel their eyes, that would be so fucking funny. And gross.” Louis could feel Clementine's stare on the back of his head, enjoying the attention he sought out, even with a joke that blatantly bad.

They crept down the hall the quickest they could, taking down all the monsters AJ pointed at. Eventually, they found the old food court, Louis's stomach rumbling on instinct.

“God I miss eating greasy food.”

“My parents never really allowed it, only if we were coming home from a trip or if it was my birthday,” She ran her finger over the layer of dust on a table, wondering how long it’s been since the building had seen people. “We don’t have time to waste, come on. Check everywhere.”

“Hopefully Lady Luck is on our side,” Louis swung Chairles back and forth, finding simple pleasure in the ‘whoosh’ noise. “So little dude, you know what a shopping mall is?”

“No,” AJ was mesmerized by what he was seeing, even if it wasn’t much. There were so many little rooms inside this one big building, but there were no medical bays, places to keep weapons, nothing. Just a lot of broken glass and ripped posters. “What were they like?”

“Well, people would come far and wide to great buildings like these. Some wanted to trade and barter for goods and services, others would scope out a hot meal FULL of preservatives,” Louis could tell his story was working by the light that appeared in AJ’s young eyes. “And sometimes, if you were very lucky, people would perform to earn a wage. They’d have instruments and sing for strangers. ”

“Like you with the piano?”

“Yeah, unfortunately, I don’t get paid for that.”

Clementine easily took out a walker hiding beneath a table, appreciating the late notice from Louis.

“Hey, Clem there’s a walker.”

What a great team.

“Maybe you can help and actually put Chairles to use,” Clementine poked the nail-stricken chair leg with her bat. “I don’t think the food court is going to help, come on. There should be a hardware store towards the back.”

“Wait a second there Clem,” Louis marched off into a store next to the sushi bar, a mattress store? “AJ check this out.” There was still a single mattress in the corner of the room. Time had eaten it up, with holes in the side and large tears running down its spine. Louis placed Chairles against the frame, climbed onto the bed and...started...jumping...fuck.

Clementine sighed, of course now is the time for him to start playing games. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Having fun, that is our team name after all. Come on AJ, I would do this when I was your age,” He extended his arm to AJ, who hesitantly grabbed his hands and was hoisted onto the bed. “My dad made me stop doing it after I hurt myself.”

“Oh my god, is that how you lost the tooth?”

Louis shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not, let’s not focus on such trivial tales.”

Seeing AJ laugh at how high he was made Clementine forgive Louis for derailing their plan. She sat on the ground near the door, flicking back and forth between the food court and her two favourite people.

Louis eventually stopped and leaned against the wall, letting AJ bounce to his heart's content. “You would have been real swell at High Jump! Could have been an Olympian.”

AJ jumped off after a couple minutes, complaining about how his feet were hurting.

“Given the state of the bed, can’t blame you. Did you have fun?” Clementine asked as AJ fixed up his shoelaces.

“Yeah, but now we need to check the hardware store.”

“Always a diligent little worker,” Louis hoisted Chairles over his shoulder, feeling a sense of pride at giving AJ some fun. The kid deserves it after all he’s been through. “Holy shit.”

Louis was like a child in a toy store, getting distracted by every little thing. Across from the mattress store was a music store, a few stray CD's could be seen on the shelves.

“Louis we don't have time to look at old music.”

He ignored Clementine as he ran to the store, immediately grabbing the first CD he saw. “I haven't seen a CD in years. My mom used to collect them and whenever her and dad got into a fight she’d haul my ass into the car and play some songs.” Louis ran a sleeve over the CD, removing the dust and revealing the band.

Now Clementine was excited. “Oh my god-”

“-Roy Orbison!”

AJ didn't understand why Louis was so hyped up by a bunch of plastic cases. The faces of people who were long gone scared him with their heavy makeup and shiny hair. “What are these?”

Louis kneeled down to AJ, flashing the CD. “This, my little friend, is how people listened to music. This disc holds songs and when put into a player, magic happens.” He passed it down to AJ, who read over the tracks.

“My dad loved Roy Orbison. Always had his Greatest Hits CD in the car.” Clementine glanced at some of the other CD’s, surprised at how many were actually left behind. Then again, CD’s wouldn’t have much use.

Louis gave Clem a cheeky smirk, giving into his temptations. “Pretty woman...walking down the street,”

The way he whispered sent shivers down Clementine's spine as her eyes grew in astonishment.

“Pretty woman...the kind I’d like to meet, pretty woman,” His singing started to grow a little louder and more dramatic, typical Louis fashion. “I don’t believe you, you’re not the truth.” He pointed at Clementine, motioning for her to keep going.

“No one could look as good as you,” She sang softly, looking at the ground in embarrassment. She never thought her voice was as good as Louis, yet he seemed to enjoy it by the beaming smile that replaced his smirk.

“Didn't take you for a Roy Orbison fan,” He started to question what kind of music Clem would actually be into.

“There's a lot you still don't know about me,” Clementine took a step out of her comfort zone and winked at Louis this time. The rosy tint that painted the tips of his ears was so worth it. “Come on AJ, let's go now. No more distractions.”

It was lucky of the group that Aasim remembered the layout of the old place. It had been heavily ransacked during the first few weeks of the breakout. Mitch had heard rumours from other survivors that people were living there, “fucking freaks they are, haven’t seen sane people in ages,” He says.

The hardware store was massive and a little too quiet. The grey shelves seemed to only hold dust and crumbs, a rude wake-up call to Team Fun.

Louis ran his fingers over a dead sunflower, crunching the leaf in his palm. “I’m going to bet my money on no supplies. Any takers?”

Clementine knew he was right, if people had been staying here they certainly didn’t leave much behind. I’ll try and find some tools, maybe we’ll get lucky.”

“Alrighty, I’ll check out the fishing gear. Violet could use some proper traps. If anything happens-”

“-Run like the wind,” Clementine gave Louis a reassuring smile, knowing how much he hated splitting up. It was dangerous but necessary if they wanted to keep the trip short. They walked off in their separate directions, AJ close to Clem’s side, his hand firmly holding onto his gun. “Keep an eye out kiddo, we don’t know who could be hiding here.”

He took her words to heart, looking in every direction. Twice. The tools were located in Aisle 3, empty boxes hid beneath the steel shelves, all ripped apart by hands desperate to survive. All that was left was a screwdriver and three nails lying innocently on the bottom shelf. “Thank you,” Clementine whispered, not sure of who she was actually thanking. “It may not look like much, but a Screwdriver has saved my life before.”

AJ picked it up and wiped the dust onto his pants. “Screwdriver. It’s small.”

“But it works.”

The sound of heavy boots on the wooden floor sent Clementine into immediate attack mode. They didn’t sound anything like Louis’s shoes did, his tended to squeak. AJ saw the slight panic in her eyes, going into his own attack stance. Clementine placed a finger over her lips, something AJ learned at a very young age what it meant.

Why did Mitch have to be right?

Clementine began to push AJ away from the oncoming stranger, eager to get Louis and run.

“Oi! What are you doing?”

Fucking hell.

“AJ run!” Clementine shouted, pushing him in the direction of the fishing aisle. The little kid bolted like there was no tomorrow, kicking up dust behind his feet. A broken shriek escaped from Clementine when she felt a sweaty hand grab at her own. She was slammed against the shelves, her head hitting the edge.

“You think you can come here and take my shit!” It was an old man, his tobacco stained fingers digging into Clementine’s wrists.

The man had her wrists pinned above her head. He stared into her eyes, trying to figure out if she was hiding something. “Do you have anyone else here or is it just you?

“Just me, I don’t have anyone else,” Clementine hoped with every fibre of her being that AJ and Louis were both safe. “Let me go and I won’t come back I promise.”

He seemed reluctant to let her go, gripping her wrists tighter. “How can I be so sure of that? That last time I trusted someone they came back with a group, took the last of my shit and killed my son,” He didn't break eye contact with Clementine, somehow dominating the small space. “I let you go, you'll come back. I know it.”

“I won't! I swear.”

The man let go of Clementine's wrists briefly, the pain instantly fleeting. But his hands moved down to her neck, the air around her growing thin.

The strength he was exhibiting was inhuman, her sight fading as the man blended with her surroundings. She clawed at his sweaty hands, wondering at how they got so calloused. She didn’t have long to wonder before she heard a loud yell, the man being tackled down by a blurry figure.

Clementine fell to the floor, her palms stinging from the impact. She looked over and saw Louis on top of the man, pinning his chest down with Chairles. The spikes were digging into his skin, blood oozing through his clothes. Clementine tried to stand on her legs but they crumbled under her weight.

AJ ran up to the man and shot him right in the knee without even blinking.

“Guys....stop.” Clementine croaked. Hurting this guy would do more harm than good.

“You said you had no one else!” The man shouted, hands frantically swiping at Louis.

“This kid is a good shot,” Louis pushed himself off the cowering man, standing tall against him, aiming Chairles at his face. “You come after us and he’ll aim higher.”

Never had he spoken with such a demeaning tone, it came from somewhere deep in his gut where he locked away all his fears. Louis looped her arm over his shoulder, helping to guide her feet, AJ didn’t put the gun away till they were out of the store, keeping himself alert.

They slowly walked back to the carpark, not mentioning the ordeal that fell upon them. AJ sat patiently in the car, playing with the screwdriver. Louis took Clementine’s bat from her and threw it into the boot alongside a bloodied Chairles.

“I’ve never seen you so angry before, are you okay?” Louis never handled Chairles with such blatant disregard. That and he wasn’t even making eye contact with her.

“No, I’m not, how can I be? One minute I’m looking at fishing nets, the next I see this shithead strangling you. You could have died.”

“Stop thinking that, worse things have happened to me.” Getting bit by a dog, getting shot in the chest, losing a finger. They all definitely make her list of ‘worst injuries’.

“It’s still a bad thing Clem,” Louis carefully closed the boot. He wasn’t one to start slamming and breaking things when he was frustrated. Not like his dad. “It was just scary, that’s all.”

It couldn’t have been said any simpler. The man who held her had nothing to lose, not anymore. To have such a blatant disregard....it’s a state of humanity that few people survive from. “We should have stayed together, you were right.”

Louis didn’t say anything, nothing needed to be said. He quickly walked over to Clem and held her in his arms, thankful that he still has that luxury of holding her this close, thankful that she was alive.

She buried her face in the fluffy lining of his coat, clenching the fabric between her hands. “Thank you for helping.”

“You say that as if I wouldn’t,” Louis couldn’t help but eye down the door, searching for anyone else who dared pose a threat. “I’d never leave you, Clementine.”