#macnamarastart

[kinglutherofsousa]

“Turns out royal titles are actually for sale,” Luther announces with a smirk and a phone in hand. “Now I just have to decide if I want to be a Sir, Lord, Duke, Baron, Count, Earl, or something else.” There’s a slight pout, as Luther searches through the options. “I was hoping for King, or prince, but I guess I have to buy a country for that one.”

[bellamymacnamara-blog]

Nothing like the zombie apocalypse to put a damper on your goddamn day. Bellamy was sitting outside one of the many little shops, closed up now, that he had purchased for the compound recently. He wanted a coffee, but instead had a bottle of water and an automatic assault rifle by his side. When footsteps approached, he fingered one of them, your guess which one. 

“If you’ve come to bitch about this, I’ll blow your head off now.” 

[jfc-its-felix]

Felix was having the time of his fucking life.

It wasn’t so much the indiscriminate murder he was enjoying. He’d never really enjoyed killing, however good he was at it. No, it was the complete fucking anarchy of it all that had him grinning like a gore-covered, chainsaw-wielding idiot. There were no ranks, no slaves or masters, no security anymore. Just chaos, and a great opportunity for escape.

Now he just had to get past all the goddamn zombies.

In the lobby, he waded through a small group, chainsaw buzzing away in his prosthetic hand, his more vulnerable arm tucked around his middle -- Dog tucked into his hoodie, wagging her tail because she was so fucking tragically dumb that she didn’t understand what was happening. And halfway through sawing at a zombie, Felix didn’t quite manage to stifle a yell as teeth clamped onto his arm.

“Motherfuck--” he started, then paused. “Hey, you’re the fucking head chef! What the fuck, bro!” Inbetween beating said zombified head chef on the head with the motor-part of the chainsaw, Felix paused again. The teeth were clamped onto his prosthetic. Hah. “Can someone fucking kill this asshole? He’s denting my hugely expensive arm!”

[milton-lomax-blog]

Munchies // AU Open

Milton woke up sometime later to the feel of a splitting headache and not much else. Pushing himself from the floor he remembered the attack...he was attacked by a fucking zombie. Just when he didn’t think this place could get any worse. His eyes focused on the corpse with a head riddled with stab wounds he fought off, leaking what he could only surmise as brain matter on the floor. But his vision was blurry, growing hazy. He needed to eat...no...he needed to find Evan. Or anyone who could help. Pushing himself from the floor he was able to slowly make his way to the bedroom, pulling on what clothes he had left from before he took his bath.

With the bite mark on his shoulder and scratches on his legs covered he looked pretty normal. Just tired. Stepping out into the hallway to the sight of bodies and blood everywhere on the walls. But he didn’t pay much attention to it. He just wanted to feed...no....find anyone still alive. “Hello...is anyone still here??”

[nurseliamfarris]

Shit

Shit

Shit

His fucking ankle. Pain was fresh and searing as it shot up his leg. The ache had been there for a while, but this was where it finally collapsed beneath him. It was so fucking stupid, he knew that he’d done something to it earlier, getting out of the tower, he should have found somewhere where he could hole up and take care of it, rather than keep moving on. It had only been an instant, landing on his ankle wrong after he’d been surprised at the med bay, shoving things into a messenger bag that now rests at his side. 

Fuck.

He can hear them. 

They’ve probably spotted him already, easy prey. Someone who can’t outrun them. Liam rifles through his bag for the gun he’d pilfered, but he wouldn’t have enough for the group coming toward him. He still managed to get at least one of them with a shot to the head, but unless someone else got to him, he was done for. 

[fightmatteofight-blog]

Well, this wasn’t where Matteo thought he’d be spending his Friday afternoon. Never before had be been so thankful for sneaking out of work early, because now instead of guarding Luther’s dumb ass from zombies, he was- 

Wait. He was alone?? 

So he picked up a weapon and started swinging, feeling immensely guilty every time the sledgehammer hit a skull. 

“Pick up a weapon and lets go,” he called out to the first coherent person he saw. “We gotta get the fuck outta here.” 

[caleb-roman]

There were people crashing in through the windows. Using their -skulls- to break the glass. Beau stood at the top of the stairs that led down into the lobby, weighing his options. He needed to get out of the building, but clearly this wasn’t a passable route.

In his haste to leave the suite, he’d grabbed the only weapon he could find that wasn’t a gun (guns really weren’t his style), which happened to be a big chef’s knife from the set in the kitchen. It was tucked into the back of his waistband now, the steel cool against his lower back even through his shirt. Quietly he moved back from the top stair and headed back down another hallway.

Something shifted nearby and Beau froze, then eased the knife out of his belt. He didn’t want to draw attention by speaking, just in case it was one of the Crazies who’d figured out how to get out of the lobby. He just held the knife steady in front of him and waited.

[caleb-roman]

Little Friends || Beau & Open

Cutting through the Commons shaved a lot of time off of Beau's schedule, so even though he didn't like it much on days when he was running a little behind, it wasn't unusual to see his crop of messy, tangled hair on the busy floor. He always tried to stay wary though, and stay alert when he was here since.. you never really knew who you might run into who you'd really rather avoid. Turning a corner, Beau glanced around the room according to habit and hesitated, blinking. Then he let out a very loud gasp and lunged forward toward the unsuspecting person, both hands held out in front of him. "STOP!"