w h a t a S h a m e ||open||

[alphonse]

Booze was beginning to become hard to come by in the zombie apocalypse. Most of the stores had been either raided or burned down, and sadly, the bars generally had the same fate. Not having had a drink since the outbreak, Alphonse was beginning to feel weird. Withdrawal symptoms, he supposed. Back before all of this shit had happened, he used to have maybe a few a day, just because it would help him unwind a little. Smoking used to to do that too, but now it was just a habit that he had to do everyday to keep him from snapping at or killing people. A day without smokes was almost unbearable, as the nicotine had long since become addictive to the blonde's body, having done it for so long. None of these habits were even enjoyable anymore, it was just something he did. Especially the drinking. If he ever had to talk to those dumb high school kids about drinking and driving, he'd tell those dumbasses straight up that they were going to end up like he was, which would probably scare them. But that was assuming that thins would ever be the same, and he wasn't sure about that either. How could life return to being the same when the goddamn dead had come back to life and started eating people? Anyone who told you that everything was going to be okay was a liar.

Alphonse had never been a real social guy, even before all of this bullshit, so he didn't have much to lose. He'd talked to some other survivors along he and Emille's travels to Las Vegas, and had heard all kinds of stories, most of them about how they had lost blank family member or everyone. Most of them were scared, some of them supported the military, others didn't. And after talking to some of these people, the blonde man made a note to never hang out in a dark alley near them. Even though he had Emille, who he knew had his back, it just wasn't the same as having someone close to you. Don't get him wrong, Emille was great. They had been friends for over ten years and their friendship was just as strong as it had ever been, if not more so now that they had yet another thing to bond over, zombie killing. Emille had a far more intense hatred for zombies than the blonde man did, mostly because the ginger man had had family stolen from him by them. Alphonse couldn't say the same, so he felt it wasn't right for him to tell Emille that maybe it was time for him to just suck it up and move on already, like he would have normally. He had come to accept Emille for this, but sometimes.. When he got the itch to kill shit a lot? Well, he really didn't want to piss the bastard off when he was in one of those moods.

So he had decided to go hunting for the amber coloured liquid he had been missing for the longest time. All this zombie shit had forced him to be sober for what? Four months now? He needed to clear his head, get away from the chaos for awhile and away from the other douchebag survivors he occasionally ran into. After a few hours of wandering around in the town he and Emille were camping outside of, he had found the jackpot. It was an abandoned bar, a beautiful one that seemed to be almost untouched by the chaos and destruction that people and the zombies had caused. The front had been completely barricaded, the only way anyone could have seen in through the front was through the small spaces where the wooden beams had not covered the shattered glass windows. After a few minutes of skulking around in the back of the joint, the large blonde man managed to find that the entrance to the back of the kitchen just needed a little jiggle to open up. A small smirk played across his face as the old door creaked open and the lights flickered on to the small kitchen/work area. There wasn't much to this place, a sink, a fridge, a grill and a small window to the bar itself.

The blonde man trailed through the small archway, which led into the bar area. When the lights flickered on, he noticed it looked like the bar was operational- even all the booze and money was still in the register. A plate of mostly eaten fries and a burger were left on one of the tables, several piles of wadded dollars and empty beer mugs were scattered along the bar. The glorious wall of booze behind the counter looked great and unopened. When he was done with this place, he would definitely have to tell Emille about this, he decided. He gave himself a considerate, curt nod and lit up a fag. One of the nicer bottles of whiskey was calling Al's name, and by god was he going to take it. He hopped behind the counter, his trench coat sliding over the laminated bar counter as he landed on the wooden floor. He snatched the large bottle of amber coloured booze and tore open the seal on the early bottled good stuff. Not bothering with a shot glass, he took a large swig from the good liquor, before dropping the bottle back on the counter and licking what was left of the liquid on his lips. The burning sensation stung him a little- he hadn't drank anything in awhile, especially nothing this strong. Alphonse took a long drag from his fag and sat down across from the bottle. There was absolute silence, which he wasn't sure was necessarily a good thing, given the current status of his country.

He shrugged this off, deciding that it wasn't worth thinking about. Alphonse placed the white stick between his fingers and reached for another sip of the alcoholic beverage, savouring every sip of the sweet, intoxicating booze. "Mmhh..." he grunted, taking another long sip.

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words: 1019
tagged: nobody, yet.
notes: shitty post is shitty, but eh. =3= live with it.

[MICHELLE KUMAKURA]

[atrb=border,0,true][bg=eeeeee][atrb=width,500,true] [STYLE=width: 100px; height: 100px; border: 10px solid #111111; float: left; margin-top: 5px; margin-left: 20px; margin-right: 5px;][/style] [STYLE=text-align: left; margin-top: 20px; padding-top: 30px; font-size: 18px; font-family: arial; font-style: italic; margin-bottom: -3px;]NEVER FORGET, NEVER REGRET —[/style] [STYLE=text-align: left; font-size: 10px; background-color: #212121; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: arial; width: 450px; padding: 1px;]THAT ISOLATED SHELL OF PROTECTION EXISTS NEVERMORE.[/style] [STYLE=text-align: left; font-size: 10px; font-family: arial; color: #606060;]WORDS 745 MUSE zombie fics TAGGED NOTES Hallo[/style] [STYLE=font-size: 10px; background-color: #f3f3f3; text-align: justify; width: 430px; padding: 5px; border-left: 7px solid #111111; border-top: 7px solid #111111;]Michelle honestly had no idea what possessed her to camp out in a place that sold alcohol. Though she was a minor, she knew the taste of alcohol and absolutely abhored it. Nevertheless, the old dinky tavern was practically free of zombies. Perhaps zombies didn't like the smell of alcohol. Michelle laughed at the thought. Still, the place was intact enough to set up camp. With a few modifications, Michelle knew that she could transform it into a safe house of sorts. The building was built out of concrete. If the windows were boarded up, then the place would practically be zombie-proof. That's exactly what Michelle spent the previous day doing. All Michelle had to do next was to fix the back of the tavern and it would be fully operational. Michelle grinned as she hauled a couple wooden boards on her shoulder. For the most part, Water Street was one of the emptiest streets in Henderson. Buildings, for the most part, were scattered and everything laid in a big sea of sand. While she still remained alert, her heart was put at ease. In such an empty area, it would be hard for anything to sneak up on her without her knowing of it. Her heart soared at the thought of arriving back to the base to finish up her meal. The freezer at the tavern held many items that did not perish yet. Frozen meat patties, fries, hamburger bread... it was perfect. To top it off, the grills were run by gas instead of electricity. The electricity didn't run well especially after the invasion happened. She could run the gas stove whenever she wanted. It was almost perfect. While Michelle wanted to preserve the precious food, she allowed herself for one victory meal. The wave of nostalgia Michelle felt when she took a bite of that hamburger almost knocked her over. After months of zombies, having a literal taste of normalcy felt almost surreal. The taste reminded her of home. She always had to make dinner for her family. Hamburgers were almost always on the menu. Her siblings always got so irritated at her food choice. In a certain way, she was happy she had no knowledge of her family's wellbeing. That way, she always had the hope of seeing them again. While she knew that the chances of even communicating with them was slim, just having that hope, though false, gave her enough of a drive to keep surviving. It was strange, in a sense. She knew she was deceiving herself yet she went with it anyway. Michelle quickly wiped the thought from her eyes as she opened the back door to the bar. Her nose wrinkled when it caught ahold of a strange smell. The bar definitely did not smell like that before. Something definitely must have broke in when she was gone. Michelle sniffed deeper. She knew this smell... it was a familiar smell. Her eyes widened as a lightbulb went off in her head. Cigarettes. That could only meant that the person that broke in was a human, not a zombie. Michelle walked through the kitchen area slowly. Her heart started to beat faster. Michelle slowly peeked around to see a blonde-haired man sitting across of a bottle of booze with a cigarette in his fingers. Michelle stared at the man in disbelief. What kind of idiot would choose to get drunk in such a world?! And why in the world was he smoking? Was he sane? Michelle fumbled in her bag and pulled out her multitool. She quickly switched it to the blade. She walked from behind the door slowly to the man so as not to make a sound. When she was only a couple feet away from the man, she pointed the blade at him. "Didn't you notice the sign? This is a non-smoking bar." Michelle announced. She stared at the man firmly. "What do you want here?" She had no idea who he was. For all she knew, he could be a mass murderer... or a rapist... something to that extent. Yet, Michelle wasn’t just going to let the man go around the tavern as if he owned the place. The place was lived up to its name. It was a gold mine. It had food and ample protection. She was not going to give it up for no good reason. She was ready to protect it against all competition. [/style] [style=font-size: 10px; text-align: center;]TEMPLATE BY SAMARECARM OF OTE + BTN[/style]