INDEPENDENT & SEMI-SELECTIVE LEFT 4 DEAD 2′S ELLIS

Hello! I’m Duke ( 21+, GMT+8 ) and this is a roleplaying blog for my canon-divergent, fandomless and zombie-slayin’ sweet southern boy! Please note that there will be triggering content like blood, zombies and death. Do read my rules before interacting, thank you! 

Ellis talks to Claud ( @neonbomb ) about someone he loves.

Their truck crawls along the dirt path, past a homestead that looks like it’s been abandoned since Halloween. Black and orange themed decorations dot the property. One half of a scarecrow swings from a tree, scattering straw everywhere. Ellis averts his gaze. It unlocks a memory.

“Didja ever tell ya ‘bout the nightmares with hanged men in the barn? I was uh, ten? And I had them for a month straight. They called them night terrors. Nothin' helped. Nobody, not even the doc at tha med centre knew what caused it. Until one night, mah momma squeezed in bed an’ talked ‘bout a large pumpkin patch with pumpkins tha size of the moon. Said it was our happy place. Worked a treat. I slept like a baby all night.” 

Ellis smiles wanly, looking down at his hands splayed across the steering wheel. “Man, these days I’ve been thinkin' real hard 'bout those pumpkins. We don’t have any raaght now, because the zombies kint stop draggin' themselves through here and diggin’ up the ground. But when this blows over, I’m gonna try growin’ one as big as mah house, so when my momma’s back, she’ll have a happy place to come back to.” 

Reaching over Claud, Ellis pulls the glovebox open to reveal... sachets of vegetable seeds, the kinds you would find at a farmer’s market stand. Pumpkin. Bittergourd. Strawberries. Ellis collects seed sachets the way some guys would collect baseball cards. “If she doesn’t make it back,” Ellis has to swallows hard to dislodge the stone forming in his throat. “Whaddya think ‘bout settlin’ down somewhere and growin’ a garden or somethin’?” 

@neonbomb​: 3, 12, 22/52, 23, 29, 38, 43

3: A fictional person that you think would be good in bed: 

“Uhhh... why do I feel like bein’ with Harley Quinn would be craaaaa-zee?” It’s not just her. Ellis is under the impression that everyone in DC comics or Marvel movies get to have really hot sex when they’re not fighting. 

12: Ever kissed someone of the same sex? 

“Yeah, obviously. My papa, on the cheek.” 

22: Ever left the house without wearing any underwear?

“Nah. It gets real hot ‘round these areas, y’know? Don’t want anyone to see mah behind sweatin’ against m’overalls like that.”

23: What do you wear when you go to bed? 

“Usually an old shirt or somethin’. But like I said, it gets real hot here. So sometimes it’s just mah birthday suit.”

29: Best sexual complement you ever got: 

“Wanna go back to mah hause an’ watch porn on mah flat screen mirror? With a line laak that Aah could have said yes, but laak, it was a dude who was drunk as a fish. I don’t reckon he was seein’ straight.”

38: Have/would you ever have sex outside? 

Ellis mulls over it for a moment. “I would. But I think I’ll get real shy 'bout bein’ outside. The farm could be as empty as the middle a’tha night but I’ll still feel nervous ‘bout the cows watchin’ me, ya know? But I’ll do it, if it’s what mah darlin’ wants.”

43: How do you feel about tattoos on someone you are interested in? 

Ellis smiles widely at this. “I ain’t opposed to it at all. I bet it’ll look like finishin’ touches on a work of art.” 

It isn’t anything the mechanic hasn’t seen before. Crashed car, crushed aspirations. Most of his clients-to-be rose to a certain degree of distress by the time he pulled up, but the lass was beside herself. Ellis sweeps the road ahead— clear, no sign of the Infected, then surveys the wreckage. 

The damage on his truck isn’t as bad as she makes it out to be. The impact had knocked the license plate clean off his bumper, but the stranger’s car isn’t so lucky. Ellis whistles when he glimpses the warped bonnet. It’s the closest thing to a crushed coke can on wheels he’s ever seen, but Ellis smooths over the damage with a reassuring “Now, now... Aah kint let that happen tah yew. Leavin’ yew alone. Yer bein’ silly raaght now.” 

The sun isn’t so forgiving. It hangs high and heavy in the sky, spiting down his sticky back. From where they stood, the dirt road stretched on endlessly, their escape tucked behind the mountains. Ellis shuffles over to the stranger and squats before her, trying to catch a glimpse of her face shrouded by the curtain of her hair, and delivers the bad news. 

Years ago, before Infected swarmed the country, Keith and he had talked about the future. They had grand plans of running for president, because there were many things that America needed seeing to. When Ellis realised it wasn't possible, his plans dwindled down to running a local watering hole adjacent to his garage business, 'cause he hadn't seen one that combined the two and wanted to be the first on the map. 

Keeping one gig afloat was a lot harder than Ellis had anticipated, and Keith just kept getting into those damn accidents with that automatic overhead door, so Ellis decided to set his mind to being the best dang mechanic Savannah's ever seen.

The Green Flu had just about ruined every long-time plan of his. With the zombie apocalypse just on the horizon, Ellis learns that there's no such thing as consistency. Cars run out of gas, people eat their way through rations and fight for morsels. What he takes for granted today, running water for example, can be something he'll cherish like a dream tomorrow. 

So Ellis knows what Claud is saying is the truth. At first, Ellis doesn't really know what to say to that, unsure if it's an answer or reassurance Claud is seeking. Claud's shoulders, strong and broad like a bull's, are tensed when he speaks. Ellis grips the meat of them and kneads, the surety in his hands determined to soothe.