Ask for Ellis

Aw, nuthin’ too special - jus’ the 2010 V8 Camaro 2SS. She’s got uh Tremec...

Fri, 16 Nov 2012 16:13:42 -0600

Aw, nuthin’ too special - jus’ the 2010 V8 Camaro 2SS.

She’s got uh Tremec six-speed manual transmission, Brembo brakes with four-piston aluminum calipers, uh 245 watt Boston Acoustic stereo system with nine speakers, heated leather seats, an’ with uh s-type Borla catback awn th’exhaust, she’d have uh purr like uh goddamn sabertooth tiger.

TELL ME SHE AIN’T BEAUTIFUL.

—————————————————————————————————————

Her initial growling purr breaks into a roar as soon as he hits sixty, the first curve in the road taken like a lioness loping to the right in pursuit of evasive prey; she really breaks open when he spills into an open stretch of road. The engine snarls louder as he breaks a hundred, sweeping down the barren highway like he’s poured straight out of hell with the devil on his ass. The car is sleek and frigidly cool, but she brings a substantial punch of heat, crawling steadily towards one-thirty-five and to heaven beyond.

Trees are nothing but a blur on either side of his road – his, because he fucking owns this bitch. He’s gunning through the mountains, he thinks, because a glance out the window reveals a sliver of white-crested slopes in the distance. Rise Against kicks up on the sound system, bass really hammering when he slides the volume even higher, letting the speakers fill the car with thunder of Broken Mirrors.

He’s been riding awhile when he notices the ground isn’t still beneath him, the slightest tremble becoming a pronounced vibration; gray eyes narrow and he grips the leather of the steering wheel tighter.

The source begins to break through the trees, branches parting with a billow of fleeing birds as underbrush is torn up and thrown aside. The tank bellows as it hits the street, massive, muscle-wrapped body bunkering down as it takes off after him.

He’s pushing one-forty and still it pursues him, loping on bloody fists of meat, its head bowed with glittering eyes squinted with rage.

“Ellis,” says Keith, at his side at once, “S’comin’ fer us.”

El shakes his head, lips peeling back in a manic grin. “Ah got it,” he says dismissively, lifting a hand to stroke his fingers across his lover’s cheek without looking up to watch Keith’s face color beneath the affectionate touch.

They’re coming up on another curve in the road and Ellis lets her take it at break-neck speed, sweeping out like he’s been shot from a sling; she handles the pavement like a magnet, traction never wavering. The tank in the rear-view lumbers a little as it follows, the change in direction clearly disorienting for the beast.

“Light this up fer me, baby,” Ellis murmurs as he hands Keith a mollie from nowhere, the redhead accepting the bottle and shifting around for a moment before producing a lighter. He watches the tank for a moment longer, its slack tongue draped from the mutated ruin of its jaw, before abruptly wrenching into reverse and speeding back towards it backwards.

The tank lifts a massive arm to strike the oncoming vehicle, but Ellis sweeps to the right, his chevy princess handling like a ballpoint on paper as it shoots under the tank’s attempted strike; he continues in reverse as he plucks the molotov from his partner, his window sliding down when the brakes catch and hold.

They sit in the middle of the road, the engine purring.

The tank turns, uttering a loud snarl as it begins to gallop towards them.

Ellis revs her up, letting the tires hiss against the pavement as he slides an arm outside his open window, fingers holding the molotov by the neck. The flame eats away at the rag tucked at the top, chewing through the brittle fabric and dribbling smoke as it goes.

“Ellis,” says Keith, his voice tight with warning.

The Camaro roars as she’s let go, going from zero to eighty in seconds; Ellis drops the mollie, glass bursting in an eruption of flames that sweep across the tank’s hunched frame as the car shoots around it in a red flash. They’re well out of range by the time the zombie can stumble into a turn, flames consuming its muscled flesh in a burn of orange and red that glimmer and sizzle vibrantly, melting mutated skin and filling the air with the stink of burning flesh.

It staggers and collapses in the rear-view mirror.

Keith shifts beside him, and Ellis turns his face so the redhead can perch a pair of sharp sunglassses on El’s face, the sleek black reflecting his lover’s smile. They lean forward together, and with flames burning on behind their speeding Chevy, they kiss long and deep.

Ellis woke sharply, gray eyes wide beneath the warm spill of sunlight from the slight part in Keith’s bedroom curtains. Turning his head to eye the slumbering redhead sprawled beside him, Ellis found himself grinning uncontrollably, settling back into the soft embrace of his pillow with a sleep-roughened chuckle.

After a moment, he pulled the edge of his blanket up, staring down at himself with a quirked edge to his smile.

“Damn good dream,” the mechanic said musingly.

imagineyuorotp: Imagine Person A of your OTP nyehing sensually in Person B’s ear. When Ellis had...

Sun, 11 Nov 2012 08:50:00 -0600

imagineyuorotp:

Imagine Person A of your OTP nyehing sensually in Person B’s ear.

When Ellis had been a boy, he’d wanted a horse of his own to ride to school on instead of the bus.

His grandfather had owned a horse ranch before he was born, and pictures of his mother on various mounts lingered in the photo albums his grandmother had let him pour over in his grandparents’ living room. The ranch had fallen through after a tourist had snapped his neck, and Ellis come into the world with a grandpa who dabbled in banking instead of majestic beasts. The boy’s disappointment was profound.

This obsession lingered into adulthood. With each passing year, the mechanic eyed the sale ads in the newspaper, considering the tidy text marketing horses from ranches outside the city, tempted by each new entry. But there was always some reason to resist, some bill or consuming responsibility that made the investment seem better timed for another day.

After the apocalypse, horses had become a rarer pleasure, a majority of their numbers having been slaughtered or left to starve when the masses had fled. When Ellis had decided to spend one of his anniversaries with Keith on horseback, they’d had to drive several hours, and the selection had been limited.

He’d had to plead his way into getting a dog, so it was unlikely that Keith would allow him to buy a horse. They didn’t have the room for more than a little pony in the backyard, and with a consuming work schedule, commuting to a farm that provided boarding was out of the question. It was a commitment that wouldn’t get beyond his vivid imaginations as he poured over the newspaper.

As it was, Keith had taken note of his boyfriend’s near-religious review of the horse ads, and had taken to teasing him when he caught Ellis doing it during breakfast. “Wutchu need uh horse for anyway?” he questioned one morning, bare foot nudging Riggs away from the table so he could eat in peace. “Yew got me tuh ride.”

Ellis flushed, jabbing his spoon into his cereal with an indignant splatter of milk, but Keith seemed unperturbed at his lover’s irritation. “Seems tuh me yer satisfied with wut yuh got,” Keith continued, gesturing with his own spoon as Ellis gave him a look. “C’mere,” he cooed, eyes softening as he reached for Ellis’s tattooed wrist.

Unable to remain irate, Ellis leaned closer, allowing the redhead an indulgent kiss to the brunette’s flushed ear, the heat of his breath making El stir on his seat.

noiryn:

“Man, shuddup,” Ellis exhaled in snorted amusement, nudging his head against his boyfriend’s face to silence the older man’s teasing. “We still got uh ridin’ crop, don’t yew furget.”

“I haven’t,” Keith assured him with a parting nibble to his ear, his scarred lips fixed in a relaxed smirk as he reached behind his head to right his backwards-perched cap. “I haven’t.”

Ellis, how happy are you that Obama got re-elected? :3 What were you doing when you found out? (ask your boss-lady to answer this one too please~)

Wed, 07 Nov 2012 16:28:32 -0600

Keith’s head in his lap was a warm, familiar weight, the fluffy brush of his hair beneath Ellis’s fingers stirring a restless smile on the brunette’s lips that spread into a grin when Keith huffed softly and shifted to get comfortable. Votes were being tallied on the news, rapidly accumulating in favor of one candidate and then another, states turning red and blue across the country as polls finally closed in others. Riggs had managed to get up onto the couch without Keith – rather docile on pain medication – fussing at him, the lithe dog settled atop the redhead’s jean-clad legs to nose at his own thick tail in apparent listlessness. Ellis’s toes curled in the shag of Keith’s living room carpet, sleepiness mounting as hours trickled by with Florida waffling between red and blue and California still accepting voters.

The older mechanic’s mishap in voting had required several stitches and two hours in the emergency room, half of which Ellis had spent bragging on the phone about his boyfriend’s patriotism. But the excitement was gone now, replaced by idle affection as Ellis pet his fingers down the sparseness of a sideburn framing Keith’s handsome face.

“Nick says he’s gottuh win Ohio ‘er Florida,” Ellis noted for the thirtieth time, eyeing the two swing states in question as the tv displayed a map of America again. Florida had trickled into favoring Romney again, while Ohio was slowly inching closer to Obama’s. Georgia had long-since flushed red in Romney’s support, which hadn’t been much of a surprise though Ellis’s circle of friends had all voiced their hopes for Obama’s reelection. “Man, when’s this shit gonnuh end? We gottuh git yer ass intuh bed.”

“M’fine,” Keith groused in slurred denial, lifting a hand to blindly pat at Ellis behind himself as he cuddled his cheek against the man’s thighs. Ellis snorted, lifting his free hand to catch Keith’s, fingers unevenly twining together. “It doesn’t even hurt,” he added brusquely, lifting his thickly bandaged hand as if to prove it, and Ellis laughed.

When Ellis stirred an hour later, Keith remained asleep with his face tucked against the younger survivor’s lap, injured hand draped off the side of the couch and Riggs snuggled up on his back as the pair snored softly in the unnatural yellow burn of lamplight. Blinking sleep out of his own eyes, he squinted at the television, election news still burbling on with footage from election parties across the country celebrating Obama’s landslide victory.

Grinning, Ellis leaned back into the couch, fingers stroking the exposed nape of Keith’s neck as he settled in to go back to sleep.

[I was able to sleep easier, too, after staying up with my lover to watch the tallies and see our president win. I’m pretty passionate about a number of social issues and while I don’t think Obama has done enough about them, I’m hoping for a brighter future in the next four years. :)]

ask-keith: ask4ellis replied to your post: Magic Anon says, please do a stream for us! :) Aw, man,...

Wed, 07 Nov 2012 00:32:03 -0600

ask-keith:

ask4ellis replied to your post: Magic Anon says, please do a stream for us! :)

Aw, man, why not? :(

Because I dun want tuh.

Well okay…

[Art by the ever-fabulous and spoiling Ask-Keith. Cue me writing the boys being tools.] As Keith...

Thu, 01 Nov 2012 03:09:08 -0500

[Art by the ever-fabulous and spoiling Ask-Keith. Cue me writing the boys being tools.]

As Keith closed the door on the night’s final trick-or-treater, pausing long enough to flick off the porchlight to prevent further stragglers from coming along at a later hour, he heard the soft press of Ellis’s shoes on the carpet behind himself and let a smirk unfurl on his scarred lips. He’d spent their evening needling Ellis with incessant teasing, feeling him up and spilling gentle nips across the hick’s throat without committing to actually getting him off, and no doubt the brunette was eager to collect on his redhead’s wordless promises of the night.

But instead of immediately turning around and sweeping Ellis against the wall for a proper ravishing, the older mechanic lingered over locking the door, ears intent on the annoyed intake of breath Ellis took as seeing him dawdle. Chain jangled within his fingers as he slid it across, fiddling with the links as though assessing how secure they were in their notched slot.

“Keith,” Ellis growled out in obvious annoyance, echoing the tone he’d been using with his lover since Keith’s relentless torment had begun hours earlier.

Keith turned his head slightly, lips parting as he rolled his tongue over the sharp glisten of a false fang fixed over his canine, scar-sectioned eyebrow arching in question. “Yeah?”

Lust bloomed bright and blatant in the clear gray of the younger southerner’s gaze, the gangster-costumed male reaching up to loosen his tie -

Keith stopped him with a raised hand. “Don’t,” he drawled, all smoke and gravel, and stepped forward before Ellis could ignore him, fingers shooing Ellis’s grip to replace it with his own. “Let me,” purred out the vampire, eyes crinkling at the corners when his boyfriend noisily gulped and immediately raised his dimpled chin to allow Keith ease of access. Grinning further, Keith drew the knot back and forth, exposing the survivor’s flushed throat with every lazy drag. “Ain’t that uh lil’ easier, darlin’?”

“Babe,” Ellis sighed out, plush lips sliding open on an exhale as Keith dropped his hand away with the tie falling slack but still intact, “Quit foolin’ around.”

“Ain’t how yew talk tuh yer vampire master,” Keith chided with a warm chuckle, another step forward forcing Ellis back – and back again, until the brunette was flush against the wall, need for release overcoming his need to fight back against Keith’s teasing. The redhead lifted a hand, palm resting against the wall to further pen Ellis in, fingers splayed in apparent comfort with his control over the smarty dressed man staring at him. “Ain’t that wut we agreed awn?” he reminded casually, smirking lips gliding just beneath Ellis’s ear as he tilted his face down to breathe on his skin, “Since I’m gonnuh be bitin’ yew up?”

“Now we’re freakin’ talkin’!” Ellis groaned in relief, heels spreading on the carpet to allow Keith full roam over his suit-clad figure, pinstripe pants already significantly tented. Chuckling again, Keith began to undo Ellis’s shirt, fiddling with the buttons only halfway before dipping his fingers beneath to tease over his nipple. “Shit,” the Georgian mumbled, arching his head back to expose the masculine line of his throat, “Bite me an’ Ah’ll call yew master awl yew want.”

“Is that so?” Keith crooned, licking over faint red marks left on El’s neck by his teasings throughout the evening; Ellis shuddered, and Keith rewarded him with the barest scrape of teeth. “Well git awn with it, shortcake.”

Keith ducked his head and began to nip along El’s neck, testing the strength of his false fangs as he gripped and kneaded skin between his teeth. The glue held strong, allowing him to suck progressively harder, spurred by Ellis writhing closer with a spill of appreciative sighs for the pressure. When “Christ, m..aster” made its way into Ellis’s mumblings, Keith smirked, twisting the younger male’s nipple to draw him up from the wall enough to seat his thigh comfortably between Ellis’s open legs.

They had discussed roleplaying at length – Ellis rather adamant about adhering to vampire lore by both submitting and having Keith break skin with his bites – and while the redhead had been skittish at the idea of drawing blood, the hard length of El’s clothed erection pulsing against Keith’s shifting thigh was evidence enough that his earlier insisting wasn’t just talk.

“Can’t hear yew, pet,” Keith mocked with a slightly sing-songed edge, not bothering to hide an arrogant flash of grin when Ellis gave a full-body shiver at the phrasing.

“Ah said that feels good,” Ellis blurted, tongue thick on his words as he swallowed, an embarrassed blush blooming across his skin in splotches. “Uh, master.”

“Gittin’ thirsty…”

Keith withdrew his hand from Ellis’s chest, instead moving to undo the fastenings of Ellis’s pants, the man’s habitual lack of underwear making it easy to get to the rigid perk of his cock. Ellis’s shoes whispered against the carpet as he shifted, chin arching as relief spilled a smile across his lips.

“Lord, that feels good,” Ellis cooed, licking the corner of his mouth as Keith cupped his length, frustrated tension melting away to be replaced by complete trust in Keith’s care – and the orgasm that generally came with it. “Gonnuh feed awn me?” he asked, the stirrings of a giggle in his voice as he sagged against the wall, content.

“Gonnuh take mah time,” Keith muttered, tugging at already bruising skin with his teeth, pleased with the complete submission in his lover’s body language. “Yer gonnuh come fer me, first.”

Ellis’s grin lingered, and his hips rolled once to encourage Keith to put a tighter grip on his dick. “Not like Ah’d say no tuh m’master…”

“Not like I’d give yew a chance,” Keith teased-threatened, eyes shadowed as he buried his face in close to take ample tastes of his spoiled lover’s fevered skin, the silken rustle of his cape draped across his arm hemming shadows across Ellis’s exposed front as he jacked him off dry. “Yer under m’vampire spell…”

hell-of-a-con: ask4ellis replied to your post: What’s the dirtiest you’ve ever felt? Was it more...

Thu, 01 Nov 2012 01:15:00 -0500

hell-of-a-con:

ask4ellis replied to your post: What’s the dirtiest you’ve ever felt?

Was it more like uh gritty paste kinduh feelin’ ‘er like wet papertowels gone moldy stickin’ tuh yer hair?

No, no. It was more like a “Shut the hell up, Ellis” feeling.

Definitely, that one.

Does that feel more like wet shit, ‘er flappy dead skin, stickin’ tuh yew?

‘Er maybe it feels like that time that bird shit in yer coffee when we wus outside an’ yew didn’t notice an’ took uh sip? Man Ah didn’t even know birdshit cud float til yew got uh mouthful off th’top!

[Been out of the writing loop for a lil bit, here’s some wee drabbles for warm-up practice I...

Tue, 30 Oct 2012 15:21:36 -0500

[Been out of the writing loop for a lil bit, here’s some wee drabbles for warm-up practice I did.]

Doing something domestic.

Ellis was once more apt to leave his clean clothes piled somewhere than put forth the effort of folding or hanging them up, but this poor habit was assuaged by Keith’s presence after the redhead moved in. The pair would make an afternoon every other week of going through the wash and sorting and folding it all to be halved between their houses. Tedious though the task was, splitting the effort and chatting their way through made the act tolerable, if not enjoyable, and Ellis rapidly abandoned former distaste for folding to instead enjoy the chore with Keith beside him, elbows-deep in dryer-heated fabrics and hangers.

Doing something adventurous.

The kiddie pool was made of flimsy plastic, decorated in cartoon fish with exaggeratedly puckered lips and rainbow fins; it took little effort to haul the empty husk up onto Keith’s roof on Shared Ideas Day, and less effort still to clamber inside of it in hopes of swooping down the shingled slant to land on a battered mattress below. It was not effortless, however, to get the thing moving, and after several minutes of grunted frustration, Ellis got out to instead heave Keith forward alone, deeming it his turn next. The pool scraped noisily as it swept down the roof, angling away from their target and instead plummeting off onto the bare ground with a loud, rattled thump and an exclamation of pain from Keith.

Doing something secret.

It was not the first time Ellis had brought Keith to visit the empty graves of his friends – shadows stretching long from the etched concrete of three headstones in the bright glare of Georgia sun – but it was the first time that Ellis’s air of casual acceptance had trembled, the brunette glowering against tears as he stepped back and away from his fallen comrades. “Don’t tell nobody,” he blurted childishly, dragging the back of his wrist beneath his leaking nose, and Keith wordlessly opened his arms to take the shivering male against his chest until the shaking stopped.

Doing something stupid.

The fight started over something menial – didn’t most of them? – and exploded over stirred up frustrations, their voices rising as Riggs sought refuge beneath Keith’s dining room table to watch the pair quarrel as the last licks of a storm battered the window and the rose bushes beneath. “Maybe Ah outtuh go home fer th’night then!” Ellis shouted, throwing up his hands, and Keith swept past him into the living room to fetch his own boots to leave first. “Goddamnit, Keith,” Ellis growled out, moving to follow him, “Ah didn’t mean it! Will yew knock this shit off?”

Doing something dirty.

Ellis swallowed a groan as he leaned back against the locked bathroom door, head tilting back against the church calendar neatly taped to the wood, paper rippling against his curls as he writhed. His features contorted in pain-edged pleasure, thighs spreading wider to better accommodate Keith’s fingers twisting up inside him as the redhead’s mouth enveloped his dick in damp heat. “Lord,” Ellis moaned, choking on his blasphemy as Keith nudged over his prostate and brought the universe bright and burning against El’s closed eyelids.

“Uh,” said Keith over the rustling of glossy paper, stepping into Ellis’s bedroom with two beers...

Tue, 02 Oct 2012 12:51:00 -0500

“Uh,” said Keith over the rustling of glossy paper, stepping into Ellis’s bedroom with two beers with the intention of relaxing, “Darlin’, wut’re yuh doin’?”

“Magic Anon,” Ellis spat out furiously, jamming stickytack on the wall and smoothing the corner of another poster across its adhesive, a pair of naked women with their breasts pressed together now adorning the wall above the bed’s headboard. He moved around the mattress, plucking another rolled up poster from the substantial lot gathered on the blankets, and shook it out to reveal a blonde perched in the lap of a brunette, her head tilted back as her nipples were cruelly tugged by her companion. “Para can’t keep’er damn mouth shut an’ told uh whole chatroom uh folks that Ah usetuh have these.” Another one went up, and Ellis’s lower lip began to protrude, his anger gathering up the child-like petulance that often came with not getting his way.

Keith watched as the posters were hung, various lesbian sexual acts and single posing depicted across the walls. “Ah see uh lottuh redheads, shortcake,” he noted, beginning to laugh. Setting the beer bottles down on the bedside table, he moved to snag his furiously pouting little lover up into his arms. “Shortcake~” he crooned, rocking the rigid line of his bodyfriend’s frame back and forth to soothe him, “Am I yer favorite redhead?”

“Yer mah one an’ only redhead, an’ Ah don’t ever wannuh look at uhnother one,” Ellis grunted, seething though his body language was winding down in Keith’s embrace. “Ah’d rather have posters uh yew up instead.”

“Yew wannuh put me awn sum posters?” cooed Keith consolingly, nibbling at the skin beneath Ellis’s ear in just the way that made him shiver. “How wud yuh have me posed?” he questioned softly, his voice a warm brush of sensuality on El’s ear before the redhead was sliding to his knees in front of him, gathering open Ellis’s jeans.

“Shit,” Ellis groaned, getting his fingers in Keith’s short hair and tilting his head back reverently as velvet warmth enveloped his dick, sucking him to hardness damn near immediately. “Prolly…” he drew in a sharp, thoughtful breath, “Prolly awn yer hands an’ knees, face turned up, lickin’ yer lips… ‘er maybe awn yer back, strokin’ yerself… nnnn, Christ, yer mouth’s amazin’…”

Ellis had kept his eyes firmly shut, but as Keith began to bob his head, working talented scarred lips and tongue over the younger man’s length, Ellis chanced opening them to watch the redhead at work and then didn’t look away.

A poorly secured poster dropped from the wall behind him, but Ellis didn’t give a damn.

Y’know yew got uh awful lottuh questions about mah breakfast drinks, miss. Anyhow, Ah got...

Mon, 01 Oct 2012 15:01:18 -0500

Y’know yew got uh awful lottuh questions about mah breakfast drinks, miss.

Anyhow, Ah got loads of experience with m’KAWC, so Ah don’t choke none. Who th’heck chokes awn orange juice? An’ Ah ain’t much fer sharin’ drinks with anybody but Keith cus, c’mon man, cooties. An’ Ah don’t reckon he cares much, we don’t always check up awn eachothers’ blogs so he prolly ain’t even seen.

—————————————————————————————————————

Ellis yawned as he pushed back from his computer with arms raised in a spine-bowing stretch, a satisfied grunt coming from his throat as a series of soft pops accented his gesture. In truth he had a pretty bad back and it pained him frequently; likely some charger had pummeled it out of whack and he’d be crippled in his old age. He left the monitor on and shuffled out of his laundry room and into the kitchen, finally ready to start his morning despite the mounting temptation to crawl right back in bed where he belonged.

He fetched a doubleshot of Starbucks coffee from the fridge, the cold can sweating in his grasp as he popped it open and took a quick swig. They’d had bacon for breakfast twice already in three days, so Ellis made porkchops and homefries instead, sipping through his chilled coffee with frequent yawns.

When breakfast was done, Ellis padded back into the bedroom to wake his boyfriend, smoothing an arm around the man’s waist as he leaned over to kiss his closed eyelids, rousing Keith from sleep with tenderness that remained soft despite becoming so habitual. “Mornin’, babe,” El greeted, stepping away from the bed to heft some clothes onto the bed for him, “Coffee’s brewin’.”

In the shower, Keith was half asleep, head bowed to allow Ellis to suds up his hair and rinse it free with dutiful fingers. “What were yuh doin’, shortcake?” he murmured, fingers tracing out the sweep of Ellis’s sides, his figure becoming more pronounced with frequent trips to the gym.

“Answerin’ questions,” the doe-eyed mechanic answered chipperly, short nails melting Keith into submission with persistent kneading and scratching across his scalp even after the shampoo was gone. “Scythe wus askin’ about m’KAWC.”

Keith chuckled, hand drifting down to wrap guitarist’s fingers around the slight chub of Ellis’s half-hard dick. “What didjuh say?” he asked in a purr, lips taking on a smirk when Ellis shuddered and leaned his forehead into Keith’s burn-scarred shoulder. He stroked his boyfriend quickly, eager to tug an orgasm out of him to start there day. “Darlin~” he cooed, free hand gliding down to grip Ellis’s ass.

“Th-that yew ain’t jealous uh folks askin’,” slurred the brunette, and Keith’s wrist twisted as the endless spray of hot water slicked the gesturing, “That Ah don’t share with nobody but yew an’ – ho’gawd, baby, please…”

“Lookit yew,” Keith chuckled as Ellis whimpered and came in two quick pulses, the younger survivor leaning bonelessly into the redhead, “Mustuh really needed it, huh shortcake.”

“Yer turn,” Ellis growled out when he’d recovered, face lifting against the hot spray of the shower as he abruptly slid to his knees, “Cus Ah also said Ah don’t choke.”

…Yes. ————————————————————————————————————— “So wut now?” Ellis asked as he stood in Nick’s...

Mon, 01 Oct 2012 13:55:47 -0500

…Yes.

—————————————————————————————————————

“So wut now?” Ellis asked as he stood in Nick’s kitchen, watching the conman go through the motions of preparing his own garlic bread. It was late afternoon and the world was oddly quiet, sunlight grayed out with thickening clouds outside. “Did he say he wus comin’ back?”

Nick abruptly dropping the dough he’d been kneading with a look of disgust. “Have you not been listening to me?” he wasped out in exasperation, an edge of frustration to his tone as he stepped away from his kitchen island to wash his hands impulsively. “He doesn’t fucking love me – he’s not coming back, Ellis.”

“Well good riddance anyhow!” Ellis said hotly, stepping closer to the sink so he could try to catch Nick’s unyielding gaze, “Muthuhfucker threw yew around like trash –”

“We were working it out,” Nick began tersely, still completely oblivious to Ellis having chased the man in question off with threats of murder.

Ellis uttered a growl, abruptly reaching over and turning off the water as Nick’s fingers curled into fists beneath the spray. In its wake, the faucet dripped, the drops panging noisily on the sink’s stainless steel bottom. “Yew don’t work out gittin’ yer ass shoved around, Nick,” Ellis hissed out through clenched teeth, baring them slightly in a grimace of anger. “That ain’t no normal problem, man, that’s messed up.”

“How the fuck would you even understand, Ellis?” Nick snarled back, stepping away from the sink to dry his hands on a dish towel, “You – and your perfect boyfriend – have no goddamn idea –”

“Th’hell am Ah s’posed tuh say tuh that?” Ellis demanded loudly, following in Nick’s footsteps, spontaneously yanking the towel away from him and tossing it onto the counter. “Ah ain’t gonnuh apologize cus Keith treats me right.”

“Don’t,” Nick hissed, heading out of the kitchen and into the less restricted space of his mostly emptied living room, Overalls’s furniture-throwing eviction fit weeks before still not sorted out with new decorating. “Don’t even start.”

Ellis gripped the back of his own neck and groaned. “Look, man,” he started, stepping into the barren living room as well, “This summer’s been hell for yew.”

“Really? Hadn’t noticed.”

“An’ if Ah cud change it somehow, Ah wud.”

“Really,” snorted the conman, turning at last to face his best friend in the middle of the room; his chin lifted sharply. “And how would you do that, Ellis?” The mechanic opened his mouth to reply and closed it abruptly. Nick snorted again. “Jesus Christ.”

“We jus’ gottuh figure this shit out,” Ellis began again, still rubbing the back of his neck thoughtfully, a note of confidence in his voice as he added, “We’ll git yew back awn yer feet.”

“No.”

Ellis blinked, visibly wounded by the curt response. “No?”

“WE are not doing anything because I will never be part of any WE again,” Nick bit out, his subsequent chuckle darkly bitter. “I think I’ve spent enough time at someone else’s fucking mercy.”

Ellis left less than an hour later without much of a resolution to their conversation, finally fleeing the tense atmosphere of Nick’s house to instead sit on his own porch and stare down where he’d watched Overalls sit at Nick’s patio set just a few months before. He’d had sympathy then, seeing a skittish boy still tangled in the nightmare he’d literally dug himself out of, the potential of a good man in the haunted recess of Overalls’s baby blues.

But that space was empty now.

Oh-ho, Ah see wut yew think yer doin’ there, anon. Yew think yer real’ smart, askin’ me how Ah’d...

Wed, 26 Sep 2012 15:41:00 -0500

Oh-ho, Ah see wut yew think yer doin’ there, anon. Yew think yer real’ smart, askin’ me how Ah’d feel if Ah wus Overalls and Nick kept visitin’ his friends when Ah told’im no, am Ah right?

Well lookie here, man. When Keith wus jealous, wanted me tuh quit visitin’ Nick s’much, Ah told’im no. Cus Ah wusn’t doin’ uh damn thang wrong an’ that wus mah best friend who fixed me up when Ah didn’t know how tuh be mahself no more. Yew don’t ask sumbody tuh quit seein’ their best friend cus yer jealous. Yew work awn trust an’ helpin’ ‘em git along.

Tuh be honest, them lines kinduh blurred fer awhile, an’ Ah wusn’t uh real’ good friend tuh Nick. But we’re awl workin’ awn it now.

Findin’ yer soulmate’s th’most important thang yew can do in life, man. That’s th’person yer gonnuh spend th’rest uh yer days with – yer gonnuh write yer life’s story tuhgether. But yew don’t fergit th’folks who kept yew company awn th’way, an’ that’s yer friends.

—————————————————————————————————————

It was early morning with a haze of mist blanketing the grass, the distant chatter of birds waking in the tentative sunlight giving the chilly breeze a warmer edge; Ellis stepped out onto the porch and raised his arms above his head in a hard stretch, pausing to rub at the thick scarring at his inner elbow as he looked across the street.

His neighbor had tossed on jogging clothes and was readying his music, tucking earbuds into his ears before he noticed Ellis watching and rolled his eyes. Ellis grinned and offered a wave of greeting in return.

“Feel like going on a jog?” Nick asked after a moment, and the usual sourness was replaced with a blandness Ellis recognized as something akin to vulnerability; Nick had been mostly alone since Overalls had split town, and Ellis hadn’t come out to jog with him consistently in months.

They circled the trailer park twice and spilled out into the barren residential streets that surrounded it, passing Nick’s garage and the convenience store that had once been a daily destination when the two of them were too lazy to commit to a full shopping trip for food. Their conversation was slow, mostly broken by soft panting as their pace increased into a run, but both were sporting grins by the time they’d returned to their street in a light sheen of sweat.

“Damn, that feels good!” Ellis crowed, spine bowing in yet another stretch that dragged him rigidly onto his toes, “We gottuh go back tuh doin’ this every mornin’.”

“I wasn’t the one who stopped,” noted the gambler dismissively, his voice curt, and Ellis’s smile deflated into a guilty slant. “Ah, Christ, kid,” Nick grumbled, choppig a hand across the hick’s bicep, “I’m not mad at you. You can knock off the puppy eyes.”

“Hey,” said Ellis suddenly, stopping to stand in the middle of the unoccupied road, “How ‘bout we have lunch like we usetuh, huh?”

Nick’s eyebrows arched as he smirked at the suggestion’s underlying intent. “Oh, like how I used to cook actual, good food and you’d gorge yourself on five plates.” The conman uttered a coarse chuckle and moved ahead, taking his time meandering back to the sidewalk as Ellis trotted dutifully beside him, “You inviting your boyfriend too?”

“Look, man,” Ellis started, his voice dropping low, “Ah know yew don’t like –”

“Nah,” Nick interrupted smoothly, lifting a hand to silence his best friend as they reached Ellis’s porch, “You know what? Invite him. I’ll have to cook enough to feed an army, but what the hell – I feel like cooking today.”

Th’way Ah figgur it, lotsuh folks ain’t got no other option, righ’? Like, single moms ‘er dudes...

Wed, 26 Sep 2012 14:38:28 -0500

Th’way Ah figgur it, lotsuh folks ain’t got no other option, righ’? Like, single moms ‘er dudes whose parents kicked ‘em outtuh their house?

Ah met uh couple guys in Atlanta an’ they wus real’ nice people. Me an’ Dave swapped stories with ‘em cus we split uh pizza an’ sat buhind uh buildin’ few like four hours, man.

See, Dave knew’em cus he’d go tuh Atlanta tuh see his grandparents every weekend, an’ him an’ Paul came across’em in the park once. They’d dance durin’ th’day an’ let folks see’em, then at night they’d hang around an’… *Shrugs his shoulders* Sum people’d come back around an’ pick’em up.

Ain’t like messin’ ‘round with whoever from uh bar ‘er whatever fer th’hell uh it. Ah git awl tore up when Ah think ‘bout people who got so little thah’s awl they got tuh sell… *Rubs the back of his neck, eyes dipping low*

—————————————————————————————————————

“Y’all like pepperoni?” asked Ellis as he held up the flimsy, grease-stained box to the trio of boys perched on milk crates, eyes glittering with greed at the offering. Dave was the first to hoist a slice from the offered box, but their new friends were quick to follow suit, strings of cheese draped from their pieces like untrimmed threads on El’s torn knees.

“Thanks, honey,” cooed the black boy, the older of the two dancers. His features were exotically angular, the sharpness of them calling back to distant jungles, the richness of his chocolate skin smooth and clear; Ellis had never seen a man so pretty. He picked at his pizza with long, slim fingers, removing and rolling up the pepperoni to eat them one by one. “This your first time inAtlanta?” he questioned, each syllable spoken with firecracker quickness.

“Sh’ore is,” Ellis drawled, shoving a majority of his slice into his mouth immediately, chewing around the bulge in his cheek with a grin. “Well,” he admitted after a moment, “Firs’ time bein’ old enough tuh recawl, anyhow.”

“Paul wus bein’ uh prick,” Dave explained, sharing a beer with the black boy without care of where the male’s thick, pretty lips had been earlier in the evening. “So Ah brought Baby E instead.”

The second boy – stocky and blonde, his face pockmarked with acne scars beneath the greasy spill of his hair – snorted and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “E stand fer summin?” he asked softly, muddled brown eyes lifting to drift over Ellis. He licked his lips, fingernails crawling over his own knees like skittering bugs as he murmured, “Ecstasy, maybe?”

The high school student retracted, eyes going a little wide at the reference assumed to his initial, distaste scrunching up the corner of his mouth. “Uh.”

“No,” Dave said sharply before Ellis could respond further, “His name’s Ellis.”

“Did you just get that ink done?” the black boy questioned suddenly, reaching out to skim his fingers in the night air just above Ellis’s freshly applied tribal marking, the blue ink inflamed and swollen beneath the gleam of cream.

“Like two hours ago!” Ellis crowed proudly, rolling up his short sleeve to expose the upper tips of the design to the boy’s curious gaze. “Dave drew it for me – Ah wus s’posed tuh git it done with mah buddy Keith but he got his early.”

“I like it,” he said quietly, his eyes almost amber brown in the darkness. “It suits you.”

“Shit, thanks,” Ellis said with enthusiasm, chomping down the last of his pizza slice and licking his mouth. “So how’d y’all meet Dave, anyhow?”

The black boy raised his arms to a silent beat, body churning like liquid where he sat; he paused in a pose, chin raised and eyelashes thick and glinting. “Same way you did. In the park, a few weeks ago.” He dropped a hand, fingers arched in invitation, “Though he got a dance.”

Ellis swallowed, face heating as a blush unfurled in an attractive splotch across his features. “Uh, no thanks, man. Y’all looked awesome dancin’ tuhgether but –”

“I’m offering a dance, not a blowjob, honey,” tittered the black boy.

When Ellis’s face flushed further, the brunette nervously scuffing his heels on the pavement as his milk crate creaked beneath him; he tugged on his collar, laughing nervously. “Ah ain’t much fer dancin’. Ah ain’t uh fa—like that,” he corrected himself quickly.

The boy’s eyes slitted, but held no malice as they studied Ellis thoughtfully, as though he were quietly unzipping the surface to see the truth beneath. It made Ellis distinctly uncomfortable and he hunched his shoulders a little to shake the feeling. “Okay,” he agreed with a smirk, reaching out to pat El’s knee consolingly, “I’ll see you in a few years, honey.”

“Huh?” blurted Ellis loudly.

Dave snorted loudly, choking on his beer, and all four boys began to laugh – Ellis rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously despite his confused smile.

Why wouldjuh bring that up!? The raspy series of giggles caught Ellis’s attention first, causing...

Tue, 25 Sep 2012 15:38:45 -0500

Why wouldjuh bring that up!?

The raspy series of giggles caught Ellis’s attention first, causing him to turn in the knee-deep swamp water the survivors were wading through, his ak-47 held aloft as he peered into the vine-tangled drape of tree branches that shadowed them. “Jockey,” he warned curtly, popping his flashlight on to have another look in the gathering darkness.

They continued to walk, listening to echoed rustling and snapping branches that seemed to come from everywhere, picking off the occasional wading infected without an appearance from Ellis’s called jockey. The damp trickle of grunts and chuckles followed them for over half an hour, occasionally breaking into a clearer burst of near-human laughter that made Ellis shudder in disgust.

“Damn, them thangs creep me out,” he grumbled, adjusting his cap as he swatted off a buzzing gaggle of flies. “Wut’s so funny, anyhow?”

“Ah’d rather not know,” grunted Coach, finally stepping out of the water and onto a the grassy bank of a small, soggy island of sorts. It was a squat gathering of mud that had accumulated enough vegetation to become solid, and the survivors eagerly followed the big man’s lead and stepped onto the welcome break from the zombie-riddled waters. “Short break, people,” said Coach firmly, leaning back against a tree and wiping his face with a gloved hand, “If we want outtuh here before dark.”

Rochelle sat down immediately, not even complaining about how wet the brittle grass was. Ellis moved around her to explore their stout little atoll with his lighted pistol. He was never good at taking breaks sitting down; adrenaline and natural curiosity drove him to keep moving. “Not too far, kid,” came Nick’s voice wearily, and Ellis could hear the click of a lighter as he walked into the trees.

There were a couple of swollen dead bodies sprawled on the ground in a heap, too much blood for Ellis to determine what exactly had killed them, but he found unused ammunition for Nick’s sniper scattered among the tossed limbs.

The giggling came again, this time softer, and Ellis glanced up sharply. “Son of uh bitch,” he growled out, popping the safety off his gun as he stood up from his bullet gathering. “Come awn out, yuh nasty bastard,” he encouraged, turning to follow the sound of the gasped tittering.

The jockey hit him from behind, the full weight of its bowed body throwing Ellis forward into the underbrush. Branches clawed at him and snapped under his weight, slack trails of vines tangling around him as he fell; the jockey’s spindled arms came around his face, obscuring his vision as he hit the ground. “HELP!” Ellis shouted, struggling to get his pistol aimed to shoot the damn thing, too much vegetation surrounding him to get his arm up.

Its clammy body railed into the side of Ellis’s face, flesh smacking his head in a rapid series of thrusts that seemed to jar his brain around in his skull. When the haze of impact faded, more specific sensations came to the struggling mechanic, like the slippery slickness of something rigid dragging over the shell of his ear, followed by the coarse bristle of body hair and the slack drag of a ballsack –—-

“JESUS CHRIST!” Ellis shrieked, his voice taking on an almost effeminate pitch as he screamed, gun forgotten as he fought to simply get away. The jockey’s huffed and rasped cackling returned, punctuated by shuddered breaths.

Gunshots sounded in the darkness, and the jockey’s body jerked shortly with a shriek; warmth poured over Ellis’s ear, slickness gunking his lobe like a good spat. Its body slumped with a final trembling giggle, and Ellis was still screaming when its corpse was pulled off of his shoulders by Coach and Rochelle; he clawed at his own ear, screeching unintelligibly.

“That’s not –” said Rochelle in horror, and Nick began laughing loudly behind them, breathless and belting.

“Calm down, boy,” Coach said sharply, crouching in the underbrush to retrieve his fellow Georgian’s hat from the weeds. “Awl that screamin’s gonnuh alert uh damn horde.”

Ellis quieted, wet fingers curling over his ear as he remained prone on the ground, his breaths clucking like a child’s after a particularly hysterical tantrum. “Tell me it wudn’t wut Ah think it wus,” he whispered, eyes impossibly wide and gleaming.

“Well, the thing was naked,” Nick said helpfully, his voice followed by a grunt as Rochelle punched him in the arm. “Did you ask for its number?” Nick tried again, and Rochelle shoved him, snarling under her breath as the gambler’s husky laughter started up again.

“It’s just blood, boy,” Coach murmured firmly, thick fingers prying Ellis’s away from his ear; he brushed away what was left of the fluid with his own hand as if to assure the boy of its content, wiping his fingers off on the bottom of his soiled pants. “From when we shot it.”

Ellis eased up into a sitting position, looking up at Coach in child-like need, the haunted glisten of his eyes earning him a gentle pat on the shoulder from the big man.

“Mustuh imagined it,” Coach said quietly, his calm but assertive tone remaining, and when Ellis reached for his own ear again, the former teacher pushed it back down. “It’s awl in yer head, Ellis,” he stated solid and certain, “Yuh got jumped. That’s awl.”

Ellis nodded again, this time a little quicker, and allowed Coach to help him up from the underbrush.

Ain’t never been much fer water, but Ah’ll crack open uh bottle ‘er sip from th’hose if Ah haftuh,...

Mon, 24 Sep 2012 15:57:12 -0500

Ain’t never been much fer water, but Ah’ll crack open uh bottle ‘er sip from th’hose if Ah haftuh, cus it gits hot as hell here, speshully in th’summertime, an’ it’d be sum real’ fool shit if Ah passed out cus Ah didn’ wannuh drink water.

Plus soda don’t help none. S’mostly sugar an’ shit, righ’? Ain’t gonnuh do uh dang thing fer yuh if yer dehydrated outtuh yer skull. Ah think Ah read sumplace that it makes yuh worse off when yer thirsty… Ah love Pepsi an’ Coke both, an’ Ah’m gittin’ tuh like rootbeer cus mah baby does, but mostly fer eatin’.

Ah like Gatorade when Ah’m out, like, doin’ shit, mahself. Better’n pop, an’ don’t taste funky like water. Ah git thah shit bah th’cases from Sam’s Club an’ stack ‘em up in th’laundry room fer when mah fridge runs out. Ah drink awl th’flavors, too. *Grins* Makes it real’ easy tuh shop for.

—————————————————————————————————————

The mall echoed with the jibberish shrieks of the infected, shadows crossing the walls as the creatures ran through the pillaged ruins of stores and tore through display kiosks; Ellis was on edge, shoulders hunched with the knowledge that evacuation was not immediately available in the middle of hell, the bill of his cap drawn down to obscure some of his quietly devastated features.

It had been several hours since the group had first met on the roof of the burning hotel, and the twenty-three year old was starving, guts in knots as the hunger gripped him with tight fingers and finally spilled over into a complaint. “Y’all think we cud stop fer uh snack?” he blurted, and Rochelle turned to look at him with a somewhat weary smile.

“I don’t think the food court’s open, sweetie,” the thirty-something producer said with a slight lift of her brow, her mouth sliding into a grimace of sympathy.

Ellis’s head ducked a little as he pressed a hand over his stomach, beginning to nod, but Nick spoke up nonchalantly, “I think I saw some vending machines on the last floor.” Ellis grinned at him, and the conman offered a bored wave of his middle finger at the boy’s word of thanks. “Yeah, you can kiss my ass later, kid. Can we hurry this up? Dying in the mall’s not my idea of a plan.”

The ragtag foursome headed back to the escalators, Ellis picking off a smoker lurking in the shadows of a few potted plants. They covered their mouths as they hurried through the haze of smoke left in its wake, coughing into their hands until they’d escaped its drift.

“God, I hope that shit doesn’t turn us into zombies,” grumbled Nick.

The vending machines were in poor shape, an unsuccessful attempted looting leaving them battered and dented in the front, logo displays warped and gleaming in the semidarkness.

“Anybody got uh dollar Ah can borrow?” asked Ellis curiously, glancing at his companions in obvious hope.

Coach chuckled lowly, patting his younger companion on the shoulder, before taking up the axe slung over his own and bringing it down against the scraped fiberglass front of the snack machine. The first blow ricocheted off, leaving only splintered cracks behind, but a second slam cracked in and wedged the axhead through. It took five blows to open up a large enough hole to reach through. Coach reached through the jagged opening and grabbed a handful of small bags of cookies, offering them to the mechanic with a grin.

“Thanks, Coach,” Ellis said delightedly, shoving several into his coveralls and popping open one to pour the offbrand oreos directly into his open mouth. Nick and Rochelle helped themselves, munching on candy and chips while Coach bit his way through a few candybars. “C’n we git uh soda machine opened up?” Ellis requested, licking crumbs from his fingers and lips, “Ah’m runnin’ awn empty.”

“Soda ain’t no good for runnin’, boy,” chastised the big black man, his head shaking as he moved over to a drink dispenser that offered juice and power drinks, “How ‘bout sum Gatorade?”

“Ain’t drank that shit since Ah wus in baseball,” Ellis admitted, watching in awe as Coach dismantled the front of the machine just as he’d done the last, hard heaves of his axe bringing the flimsy plastic and metal down. He took the offered Gatorade with a grin and a nod regardless, unscrewing the cap and taking a swig he followed up with a contented sigh and a lick of his lips. “Damn, that DOES hit th’spot!”

Coach tossed a couple of bottles to the others and chuckled. “Best git yo’selves runnin’ awn full – we got uh long way tuh go yet.”

Well, heck, a’course! Back when Ah wus real’ down awl th’time, Ah wudn’t really workin’ no more an’...

Mon, 24 Sep 2012 12:25:00 -0500

Well, heck, a’course! Back when Ah wus real’ down awl th’time, Ah wudn’t really workin’ no more an’ me an’ Nick usetuh jus’ lay around bein’ sad. Ain’t no way fer nobody tuh live.

He still takes like uh million naps erryday an’ gits sore when yuh wake ‘im up, an’ he’s too old fer sleepin’ like uh baby awl goddamn day. Awl ‘e does is sleep an’ mope an’ it ain’t no good.

—————————————————————————————————————

Ellis Hart was an asshole for several reasons, but the most prominent among those was his severe lack of patience for anything, which – when combined with his mechanic’s tendency to beat problems bloody with a wrench – resulted in random acts of friendship terrorism. One such an act was pouring a ten gallon bucket of ice water on his best friend’s head at two o’clock in the afternoon, drenching not only the subsequently hollering gambler, but the brand new couch he’d been taking a nap on.

“Rise an’ shine, muthuhfucker!” Ellis jeered cheerfully, dropping the bucket on the floor, “We’re goin’ out job-huntin’!”

“You just ruined an ten thousand dollar couch,” Nick snarled, teeth chattering as he crawled free of the ice-flecked disaster zone, “Give me one good reason not to shoot you where you stand.”

“Ah took th’liberty uh reservin’ mah whole day fer this,” Ellis continued with a grin, ducking back as Nick’s expression flared with further rage, “Dress nice, we got pur’spective employers tuh impress.”

Nick growled and swiped at him, ice crunching beneath his bare feet, and Ellis wrestled him into a hug that sent them both toppling across the sopping carpet. “Fucker,” Nick growled out, grappling with the younger male with a vivid cringe, “I don’t NEED a goddamn job!”

“Awl thah money yew got buried in th’backyard?” supplied the mechanic, twisting to buck Nick off and dropping back on his elbows when he was free, “Came from sumplace shady, righ’? Blood money from th’mob?”

“Some of it,” Nick agreed tersely, panting as he rubbed his side in obvious pain, “Jesus, kid, were you trying to knee my kidney into my goddamn lungs?”

“Can’t live off cursed gold, Nick,” Ellis said seriously as he crawled to his knees and stood up, offering a hand that Nick took with a wince. “Yer bound tuh end up like them undead pirates ‘er shit, doomed tuh wander th’seas unhappy cus yuh stoled it an’ can’t take it back now.”

“Because I ‘stoled it,’ huh,” echoed Nick sarcastically, shaking some water free from his hand though his entire frame was dripping. “You’re a fucking moron.”

“An’ yer depressed an’ holed up in yer house awl day,” Ellis wasped back, shaking his head with a note of frustration, “Come awn, man. At least come hang out with me, give it sum thought.”

Nick pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes sliding shut in a blatant attempt at achieving some sort of patience with the man who’d snuck into his home, doused him in ice water, and demanded he get an unnecessary job. “We need to clean this up first,” he said after a long moment.

Ellis grinned wide, and socked him lightly in the shoulder.

Apocalypse: Keith and Ellis find a 4 year old girl who managed to survive up until that point. She promptly calls Ellis 'mommy' and Keith 'daddy'. <)

Sun, 23 Sep 2012 12:31:05 -0500

“Mommy?” Ellis echoes with furrowed eyebrows, his lips quirking into something of a frown as he watches the little girl return her dirty thumb to her mouth. “Why th’heck am Ah mommy?”

The thumb pops free with a slurp and she says in obvious exasperation, “Cus you don’t have a beard.”

“Ah got stubble!” Ellis objects, giving his face a scratch in illustration, his troubled gaze going to Keith trying to refrain from sniggering. “Jesus,” grumbles the brunette moodily, swinging his AK-47 back behind his shoulder on its strap so he can lift the toddler from her perch on a battered couch, “Even lil’ kids think Ah’m th’lady.”

Keith reloads his rifle in preparation to leave the saferoom, head tilted slightly to listen to the garbled snarls outside in the semi-darkness of evening. “His name’s Ellis,” he tells the little girl, hoping to console his boyfriend, “An’ he’s m’BOYfriend.”

“Wife,” the girl corrects stubbornly, her nose crinkling under the frazzled drape of her over-long bangs, the greasy blonde strands immediately tucked behind her ears by Ellis.

“Let’er think wut she wants,” says Ellis with a shrug and a sigh, “Folks usually do. An’ she’s jus’ uh baby anyhow.”

“M’four,” huffs the toddler in his arms, and Ellis grins a little wider, his earlier irritation bottoming out with affection.

a tom thumb/thumbelina type AU

Sun, 23 Sep 2012 12:10:17 -0500

Being a few inches tall afforded Keith a substantial amount of leeway in life, both socially and physically. He could, for example, perch on his friend Dave’s shoulder instead of having to walk anywhere himself; likewise, when he didn’t feel like dealing with someone, it was just a matter of slipping behind a knickknack to avoid them. Simple tasks for others – like fixing a bowl of cereal – were daring adventures for Keith, who’d learned dozens of tricks and feats to keep his independence even in a world that was far too big for him. He was injured and lost often, and had once been forced to kill his little brother’s cat before it could kill him, but he was resilient, surviving every accident and poor decision with renewed determination to succeed.

Relationships, on the other hand, were a little more complicated, for obvious reasons. He’d had several girlfriends, a fiance he’d then left at the altar, and dated his former best friend for awhile, but nothing had panned out for him; and while being miniscule was a novelty at first, it posed some embarrassing problems down the road that Keith hadn’t yet come up with a suitable fix for.

Ellis, however, didn’t seem to mind the awkward sex life and the lack of warm body to hold in the night; in fact, he remained upbeat even when Keith’s risky behavior went afoul and nearly got him killed trying to climb the coffee pot to initiate it himself. Unlike lovers of the past, Ellis wasn’t prone to hovering protectively; any help he offered was done casually, followed up by a change of subject when Keith wasn’t happy about his independence being questioned. Further, Ellis seemed to have fun with Keith’s size, crafting boats for the bathtub and meticulously constructing a model car with a functioning engine that Keith helped tinker with before being able to drive. Child-like in his wonder, Ellis was a different breeze from all the others.

At night, when Keith stretched out on the impossibly broad surface of a pillow with his tiny blanket, Ellis would cuddle close but not too close, eyes half-lidded and full of happiness Keith could never get used to seeing glimmer in his direction.

Lesbian AU!

Sun, 23 Sep 2012 11:52:05 -0500

Kendra hadn’t spent much time questioning her sexuality in highschool; it had simply occurred to her that while she wasn’t pulled towards any girls in particular, she wasn’t put off by the concept either. So though she dated men, she kept an open mind towards women as well. She wasn’t particularly surprised to end up with one, little Ellis – with her thick drape of curls, big gray sky eyes, gorgeous bowed lips quirking in bashful little smiles, and stocky body host to curves Kenda was greedy about mapping out with her hands – proving herself to be quite the catch after the awkward phase had dwindled a little. Kendra was happy to help Ellis reconsider her own sexuality, too; strangled whimpers and moans filling their nights with music Kendra rapidly found addicting.

It was easy to get Ellis started; all she had to do was tweak the girl’s nipple through her shirt and she was buckling to her knees, begging for Kendra to give her a taste. And as far as pussy-eating went, with a little practice Ellis was outdoing anyone Kendra had been with, eager tongue and pretty lips bringing the redhead over to bliss with natural talent the older woman was a little sad had been wasted on cock in the past. Likewise, Kendra had Ellis’s number in bed and dialed it often, reducing the brunette to a mess of buzzing nerves and reverent thank you’s.

Though Kendra had her hands full when it came to babysitting. Ellis, despite bearing the scars of survival, was a complete idiot when it came to men, forcing Kendra to frequently step in when a friendly guy at the bar became a handsy guy; customers, too, enchanted by the concept of an all-female mechanic crew, were a problem, Ellis too gullible to notice when she was being objectified. It was a full time job keeping her out of trouble, and Kendra took it on with flair. Nothing beat telling some arrogant asshole to shove off her girl.

And Ellis hadn’t been the picture-perfect example of a house wife, but her cooking improved quickly, and by nature she was a spunky, get’er-done kinda gal who blew through chores quickly to get to the fun that followed. This meshed well with Kendra who wasn’t fond of lazy people and but WAS fond of having her meals prepared and served by her little dish of a girlfriend. Likewise, they mixed well with the fun that followed, Ellis as prone as Kendra to crazy ideas and impromptu feats that usually ended up in drunken giggling and a hospital visit.

Kendra hadn’t spent much time questioning her relationship with her little shortcake; it had simply occurred to her that like her thirst for life, her thirst for Ellis was strong, bright, and a little dangerous – just the way she liked it.

Keith stumbling upon a car crash and seeing Ellis being placed onto a stretcher to go to the hospital.

Sun, 23 Sep 2012 11:09:00 -0500

[Kind of a sequel to this.]

Keith isn’t intending to watch the race – it’s a Monday and he’s an entire weekend behind on sleep, show the next night burning on his brain – but something draws him to pick up the remote when he stretches out in bed, shrouded in the blessed darkness of his own bedroom for the first time in months. The constant sweep of multi-colored cars around the track is visually soothing, brief montages about the drivers now and then doing little to break his gradually drifting into bliss – until –

At first it’s just a scuffle on the track, a couple of cars skimming too close and scuffing up logos, but then a car Keith doesn’t recognize clips the back of El’s and Ellis smacks into another car, scraping along the side until he drops free – and is immediately struck by a third as his car spins slightly, tires dragging black across the pavement. A fourth car hits him dead-on and Ellis’s pitches over onto its side and rolls on its back like a flung turtle, rocking slightly before the windshield gives out.

Keith’s sitting up and grabbing his leather jacket and cellphone before the program cuts to commercial. His brain forces him to take a gulping breath when he slams the front door behind himself, dizziness and nausea staggering his steps as the brightness of daylight stings tears in his eyes; maybe. He calls the head of the pit crew as he gets in his truck, phone shoved on his shoulder as he drives to the airport.

Waiting for his flight, he watches the clips again on Youtube, and finds an update on a news website of Ellis being pulled from the wreckage and placed on a stretcher; he can’t tell how hurt the man in, thick jumpsuit and a plethora of paramedics obscuring Keith’s view. Sarah calls, then Nick, and Keith loses his voice entirely before his plane is boarding.

His manager calls halfway through the flight to offer her condolences and make sure he’s going to be on his plane to Baltimore tonight for their next show. Keith tells her no and hangs up.

No one he talks - rasps - to has any answers about Ellis’s condition, but Keith’s going to get them himself in a few hours.

An AU based off the fairy tail 'The Six Swans'.

Sat, 22 Sep 2012 12:28:00 -0500

Ellis sits on the bank, clumsy fingers jabbing themselves with the needle on every other awkwardly slow stitch he makes. The white-feathered beauties on the lake’s black surface loiter without taking notice of his efforts, occasionally dunking into the water in search of a morsel before the blue hue in the sky calls for sleep. His tongue protrudes from the corner of his mouth, the slight narrowing of his gaze the only emotion visible in his expressions after two long years without a trickle of sound from his lips. Better not to smile or even frown when his tongue is caged by obligation; a single word and the one swan he’s prone to watching will remain cursed forever.

The swan in question moves closer to the bank, an unnaturally blue eye fixed on Ellis’s silent ministrations. Its graceful neck unfurls as its head lifts, flat feet coming up onto the grassy slope of the bank, its rotund body shaking free of water with an abrupt shiver and a soft, warbled noise like a purr and a hiccup combined.

Ellis greets it only with a nod, returning to his work.

When Keith steps closer, it is on bare human feet, his gait unbalanced as he comes to stand beside his lover. He sits a little heavily, knees raising to obscure some of his nudity, and leans into Ellis for warmth. He’s forgotten how to talk, Ellis thinks, without anyone to talk to; or maybe it hurts him to talk like it hurts Ellis not to. They don’t look at each other anymore, just watch the stars emerge on the vast ink spill of the sky and try not to think too much about magic and misery.

When warm skin is replaced by sleek feathers, Ellis lifts a hand to pet his companion’s long neck, careful not to smear some of his bloodied fingertips on the pure snow white.

It shouldn’t be long now – maybe a few more months of Dave watching him questioningly as though expecting him to break, his mother petting his curls and mourning his muteness, Abby wishing for her son without closure Ellis could provide if only he could talk. A few more months spent running from jokes that might trick his laughter free and biting his tongue on the urge to share a story. A few more months of sleeping alone with the window open to the lake and the soft grumbled hums of the swans in their gaggles.

A few more months.