Hero Pose

Yup... The Beyblade Hero Pose! You found me!

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A wild blog has appeared...

Super simple! This blog is for progress updates on ao3 works, posting deleted scenes (so they have somewhere to go), and maybe some other random author notes along the way! :D

And speaking of ao3 works, in my corner, you'll find such tomfoolery as

the Invincible King AU

Salvager

Apocalyptic Tendencies

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Deleted scene - more Toguro :D

I wanted to do lots of fun things with Toguro in AT, but it never seemed to work out! Here's another one of his cut scenes...

Bang!

The crack of the bullet one second, the thud of the rabbit the next.

Toguro exhaled through his nose. Staggering slightly, he pushed himself up from where he’d been kneeling in the grass, and switched on his rifle’s safety mechanism. It wouldn’t do to fire it on accident.

His knees and ankles clicked as he reached his full height, making him wince, and he hobbled over to where his prey had collapsed. Upon inspection, he saw that the bullet had passed straight through, which was good, and that the poor little rabbit had died instantly. It was a small, rangy thing. Not much meat on the bones. Toguro felt his lips twisting into a frown. He’d have to shoot another one, then, if he wanted to feed the whole group. Neither Titus nor Bird ate much–and neither did Toguro himself, come to think of it–but one skinny bunny split between three people just wasn’t enough no matter how he looked at it.  

He knelt and began dressing the small animal. He was well-practiced and could do it quickly. It only made him gag a little bit anymore. 

Within minutes, he’d shot and cleaned a second rabbit–this one much meatier. “Nice,” he muttered to himself. “That should be enough.”

Tucking his pack against his side and shrugging his rifle onto his shoulder, he rose and turned back to camp. The sun had dragged itself free of the horizon at this point, and the morning dew was gone, long since evaporated. 

Titus has probably finished packing. Toguro chewed his lip as he thought, putting the numbers together. He’ll be heading this way. An hour out, I’d guess. He looked around, as if checking to make sure the other boy hadn’t already arrived. Well… I'd better make sure he doesn’t miss me…

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Progress update - Apocalyptic Tendencies ch. 5

Short and sweet, but up!

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Character descriptions are fun :D - Apocalyptic Tendencies

Left behind were two young men and a middle-aged woman with long blonde hair tied back in two scalp-stretching braids. The boys were both thin and muscular, but that was where their similarities ended. One was tall and handsome, while the other was small and plain. The first had rumpled blonde-and-green hair that fell back over his scalp. The other’s was dark, auburn-ish, and curly, flopping into his forehead. 

Guess who!

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Deleted scene - apocalyptic Multi

So... a lot of different directions! In earlier drafts, Jaxon had a secret identity sort of thing (not very well planned out), where he went by either Jaxon or Ekusu, depending on who he was with. Multi was on a revenge quest... which... actually, no. That hasn't changed much at all...

Home was maybe too nice a word for it. 

It was a rickety old country diner, leaning to one side, and furnished like a hunter’s trophy room. But Ekusu loved it. Finding it, unclaimed yet in good repair, had been like stumbling into heaven on earth. Especially when he’d seen the beautiful flagstone fireplace against the far wall, accompanied by stacks and stacks of cut, dry firewood organized against what seemed to be the building’s only straight wall. 

He was tending to that very fireplace now, prodding the split logs inside gently, attempting to coax out a few flames. Warmth effused from the small blaze already, cooking off the chill that still clung to him after traveling for so long in the dark. He couldn’t help but sigh contentedly, shuffling just a little closer to the fire. 

The logs began to crackle, their bark shriveling and turning first black, then white. Ekusu sat back in satisfaction. 

“Should I cook something?” he wondered aloud. His eyelids wanted to melt into each other now that he was safe, and it was so late it was actually early, but his stomach didn’t seem to care. It gasped, empty except for air. He hadn’t eaten in hours. Then again, he wasn’t sure he had any food left. Maybe he did. Closing his eyes and resting his chin in the cup of his palm, he thought of the shack’s rickety oak cabinetry and tried to remember what was stocked inside. The heat of the fire pressed against his face, threatening to lull him off to sleep. 

He was nearly unconscious, slumped over awkwardly there on the floor, when a floorboard squeaked behind him, in the entryway. He jerked awake as if it’d been a gunshot, jolting to his feet, spinning around, and holding out his arms. “Human!” he shouted. “I’m human!”

“I know exactly what you are,” the silhouette in the doorway growled, raising what looked like a clubbed tree branch, and bringing it down over Ekusu’s head.

...

Multi squealed in frustration, smashing her weapon–a stupid blunted branch–wildly into the cabin wall. The impacts shook up her arms, her shoulders jittering in their sockets, but she was so angry, the pain hardly registered. “Agh–agh–agh–!” The stick finally exploded. Splinters puffed like dust into the air. The severed half cartwheeled and clattered to the ground. Multi released one last, pent-up scream, and threw her own half into the floor. “Dang it!” she roared. 

The sun had risen, but it was still dark under the forest canopy. Tongues of fire, burping from the flagstone fireplace, lit the room she was in–the scattered possessions, the ancient hunting trophies, the blue-haired boy slumped unconscious on the ground, everything. Meanwhile, outside, what seemed to be torchlight crept across the tree trunks, the glow growing stronger each second. A survivor group was coming–and a large one at that. 

Multi ground her teeth together and dropped to her knees at the unconscious boy’s side. “Jaxon, you jerk,” she growled and, just for satisfaction’s sake, slammed him into the floor. His head lolled, the patch of blood on his temple smearing red over the planks, and a moan whined out of his throat. “I was going to kill you,” she hissed. “But you just–ugh! You just had to be human, didn’t you?”

She’d come here for revenge–but she couldn’t have it now; not with that party coming towards her. If she killed Jaxon the way he was now, they’d think she’d murdered him. They wouldn’t know that he was really a zombie. Ugh! She couldn’t let herself be found like that. And they most certainly would find her. There was no way a cabin of this size would miss a group’s attention. 

She looked down at the boy, lying there, his hair matted to his scalp, his chest rising and falling rhythmically, still very much alive–and then slammed her fist into the ground. “Agh!” she shouted. 

Fine! So he’ll live one more day. Whatever. I can wait. 

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Deleted scene - fishing gone wrong

Apocalyptic Tendencies was my little practice project while trying to get back into writing. It went a lot of different directions before I figured out what I actually wanted to do. This was one of them!

For traveling in a pair, Jaxon sure spent a lot of his time alone. Multi “needed a break” or something like that. Whatever.

With a yelp, he made a snatch in the water, jerking up suddenly and hucking a fish–a small, wriggly brown trout–onto the shore. “Score!” he cheered. What was that, now? Three little guys? He hopped towards the bank, juggling himself from side to side to avoid soaking his rolled-up pant legs in the rushing stream. “That’s what I’m talking about!”

He crouched down over the gasping, goggling-eyed fish cheerfully. “Wow,” he sighed. “I’m so good at this.” 

One flopped unappreciatively over his bare foot.

“Ew–yuck! Keep your slime to yourself!” He scrambled back, scraping his toes off in the grass and gagging. “Ugh… Bad fishy.” Eyeing the offending trout warily, he stooped over and wrapped his fingers around it, hoisting its straining torpedo-like body up and close to his face. “I’m gonna eat you first,” he moped.

A twig cracked behind him. 

“Multi?” he turned around. 

And five pairs of ghastly, iris-less eyes leered back at him from the opposite side of the stream.

He stared, his jaw falling open in soundless shock.

The zombies, watching him blankly, growled from deep within their chests, the sound reverberating all the way into Jaxon’s eyeballs. He was acutely aware of their overgrown fingernails, spasming at their sides, and the tight fit of their skin to their bones. These were wild zombies, and starving ones, too. 

Not so good.

“Howdy!” Jaxon squawked suddenly. “How long have you been standing there?”

They glared at him. 

“You look a little hungry,” he tried again, and glanced down at the rebel trout in his fists. “Want some fish?” He held it out. “There’s plenty!”

At exactly that moment, though, the slimy little traitor slipped out of his hands and shot out like a fat, fat, very fat arrow. Its moist scales caught the sunlight for a split second at the apex of its arc and, for one moment, they glittered like gemstones. But then it slapped into one of the zombie’s faces with a meaty, suckering thwap.

Jaxon wilted. “Aw, crap.”

All five of the gray-skinned creatures roared, voices screeching, dry as reeds, and plunged into the stream. 

Jaxon shrieked and toppled into a sprint in the other direction. “Multi!” he howled, “Multi!”

…

Climbing the slope had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now he was having second thoughts. 

Fingers digging into the rocks and feet kicking wildly, nine feet off the ground, Jaxon groaned in total exhaustion. One of the zombies was pulling at his left foot, but he was so tired, he almost didn’t even care. His will to live sometimes petered out along with his stamina, which was unfortunate. And he had only made it halfway up the slope, too. Ugh, what a lame way to die.

“Help,” he whined halfheartedly, giving his feet a pathetic little kick. “They’re gonna eat me. Somebody do something.”

A head poked over the top of the ledge then, and Jaxon almost cried with laughter because he thought it was another zombie. But then it yelled “holy snap,” and he realized he was maybe wrong. 

“Hey! Hey!” he gasped, starting back into motion almost like he’d be shocked.”You!” He snapped his right hand upwards, snatching onto a new handhold and dragging himself up. “Help me out!”

“Yeah, just hold on!” the head, which was eclipsing the sun, silhouetted to near black, shouted back, and then ducked away, disappearing over the edge. 

“I’m trusting you!” Jaxon screamed, jerking his left foot out of the zombie’s grip and lunging another space up the slope.

And it was worth it, because, in less than three seconds, a whip of rope slapped into the rock beside his head. “Grab on!” the voice above him yelped. “Climb! Come on, climb!”

Jaxon did, shrieking “pull, pull, pull!” as he went.

He nearly reached the top, too.

But his feet slipped right at the end of the ascent and, with a wail, he began to plummet. Wind rushed at him from below and the roaring of the zombies filled his ears for a split second. And then two arms shot out like rockets and locked around his wrists

“Ugh!” the head above him coughed–Jaxon heard the whump of its owner’s chest flattening against the cliffside. “Guh-gotcha!”

“Th-thanks!” Jaxon panted, eyes big as skulls. The rope was no longer directly in front of him, so he rudely, but also necessarily, jungle-gymed his way up the other guy’s arms and shoulders until he could collapse over in safety, flopping like a pancake into the pillowy grass at the top of the slope. 

Equally winded–probably because Jaxon had accidentally stomped the breath out of him while scrambling up–his rescuer slumped over, too, gagging slightly as he pulled in air. “You… good?” he managed.

“Uh… uh-huh,” Jaxon said, asphyxiating comfortably in the corner. 

They both recovered at about the same time, and dragged themselves into sitting positions with long, achy groans.

It was Jaxon’s first chance to actually look at the other guy, and he noticed that the sizing-up was mutual. They stared at each other, both a little confused.

“Um…,” his rescuer started. “Where exactly did you come from?”

…

Multi sat crosslegged in a bald patch of earth beside the firepit, a thick-spined textbook spread open across her knees as she thoughtlessly stirred the oatmeal (which had long since turned to mush), steaming in its pot over the coals. With her free hand, she slipped a fingernail under the next page and flipped, smoothing out the paper to avoid any creases. She looked at the next few words without really reading them and bit out a huff.

What time was it? She checked her watch. Jaxon had been gone for over two hours. Seriously? They’d agreed that he’d only ever wander off for one. She had half a mind to stow the book, kick over the oat soup, go find him, and drag him back to camp by the wacky blue hair herself. There was no finding that lunatic once he left visual range, though, so she didn’t bother.

He’d stumble back into camp eventually, if he didn’t get himself either injured or lost. Or both. And he never had up until then. So. 

Multi flicked back to the previous page in her textbook and retraced the last sentence.

And, of course, that was exactly when Jaxon decided to return. “Howdy hey!” he cauterwailed, his bright, cheery voice breaking like an axe murderer through Multi’s train of thought. 

She snapped her book shut so fast the pages clapped. “Jaxon!” she cried, climbing onto her feet and stomping towards her companion, who had come waddling out of the treeline. “Where have you been? It’s been almost three–!”

She stopped when another boy stepped out of the foliage.

He was a giant compared to Jaxon, broad shouldered and muscular–or, as muscular as anyone was after the end of the world–with long, feathery hair tied back by a knotted headband, and skin tanned a dark, dark bronze. And, naturally, if he was a giant for Jaxon, he was a mountain for Multi.

“Who’s that?” she shot at her companion.

Jaxon gave her a bouncy, clueless shrug, his blue bangs flouncing. “How should I know?”

“My name is Robin,” the newcomer cut in hastily. “He ran into me in the woods.”

Multi stared between them, her gaze cutting a sharp diagonal.  

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Progress Update - I See Through You (Chapter 6)

Just to make it known that I’m still working on it… :D

Not finished yet, but the first 3 sections are done, with maybe 5-ish to go!

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Progress Update - Apocalyptic Tendencies 🎸

Chapter 4 is now up! Yayyy

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Deleted scene - why's your hair blue?

“Why do you look so well fed?” Jaxon blurted.

“What kind of a question is that?” his rescuer frowned. “Why’s your hair blue?”

“Whoa. You think my hair’s weird, you should see Multi’s.”

The other kid wrinkled his nose. “Who’s Multi?”

“No, wait–I was serious. Answer my first question.”

“What first question?”

“Why are you so well fed?”

“Why are you so skinny?”

“I hate exercise,” Jaxon answered frankly. “Your turn.”

“I’m a cook. I have a garden.”

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I found this description of Khrome and Robin in my deleted folder 😂

The two together made a comfortable pair. Like a horse and pony.

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Deleted scene - Meiko

“Meiko!” 

Khrome freed one of his arms from under the shooter kid’s shoulder and drummed his knuckles against the Pillbox door.

Robin stuck out his foot and kicked it a few times. “Man, this guy is heavier than he looks,” he moaned, nearly staggering over with the effort. 

Khrome was feeling it, too. “Meiko!” He called again. 

“Boys?”

“Meiko!” Robin gasped. The voice had come from behind them. He pulled the shooter boy’s arm tighter over his shoulder and wheeled around. “We found—!”

The vet’s soup bowl toppled out her hand, smacking into the dust with a dull thud. 

“Oh,” she said eventually. “You found another one.”

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Deleted scene - Ciel on the run

Dawn clawed like a wraith over the hills, digging bleak, icy nails into the landscape and bleaching the forest gray. 

Ciel’s fists jackknifed like pistons at his sides and jets of fog rocketed from his mouth, whipping out behind his head as he sprinted faster than he ever had in his life. His lungs were clear and his breath felt stingy and cold in his throat. 

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Deleted scene - Khrome and Yuni

The kid’s name was Ciel Kaminari.

That was what it said on his driver’s license

He was small and wiry and looked like he was roughly Robin’s age. Stringy ginger hair sprouted from his head like crabgrass, as long as his nose in some places, and his skin was a mottled brown, spotted with dirt, oil, and moss. 

“What’s that smell?” Yuni whined, physically recoiling from Ciel’s slouched, unconscious form, and plugging her nose with a dainty little gag. Fair enough. All the staggering nearly pulled Khrome, who was supporting the kid’s right shoulder–Yuni was supposed to be propping up his left–over. He flung his feet out wildly and leaned back to counteract her jerking. 

“It’s gasoline,” he explained.

“Did he drink it?”

“What--no! Come on. Let’s just get him to the Pillbox.”

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Deleted scene - Toguro the security guy

Robin was vigorously sautéing onions, and Khrome, momentarily distracted from his job organizing diningware at the meal counter, was watching, when the security guard suddenly burst through the door. “Ryugu! Kazami!”

Both young men leapt half out of their skins.

“Toguro!” Robin squeaked, slamming his frying pan back down atop the burner. “Don’t do that!”

“What is it?” Khrome gasped. He caught sight of the man’s armed gun and dropped a little lower behind the counter. “Can we help you with something?”

“Come on,” Toguro beckoned to them urgently, already shuffling back the way he’d come, a pained expression pulling at his face like a fishing hook. “We found a survivor at the border–he’s a wild one.”

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Deleted scene - misc. Captains

“Do you remember when we were young?”

Kris blinked. The question surprised her. She gave Shu a curious glance as she walked beside him, the two of them going together to the training field, heading to their respective squadrons. He wasn’t looking at her, his gaze unfocused, staring ahead at the path. “What do you mean?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Things were just… different.” A smile crept up the side of his mouth. “We were all nobodies.”

“I’m not sure that we were,” Kris chuckled. “Weren’t we all teenagers when–?”

“I mean before that,” Shu smiled. “When we were kids.” 

“I don’t know if I remember back that far.”

Shu laughed. “I do.”

Kris eyed him, waiting for the snowy-haired captain to continue.

“My parents would leave me alone for days on end, so I used to climb the trees in the neighbor’s orchard. At first just for fun. And then to pick apples.” He grinned. “I pretended I was a great chef and made a mess of my mother's kitchen until I really did learn how to cook. I actually got quite good.”

Kris quirked an eyebrow. “I didn’t know.”

He nodded, his hand finding its place atop the hilt of one of his sheathed axes. “I’m better known for these,” he sighed as if by way of explanation.

“What’s got you thinking about back then?” she wondered aloud.

His fingers tightened around the axe’s shaft. It didn’t slip past her notice. “Nothing, I guess. It was just a long time ago. If you had told me then who I’d become, I wouldn’t have believed it. I didn’t know I could Resonate. I’d never touched a weapon. I maybe knew the king’s last name.”

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Deleted scene - misc. Apocalyptic Tendencies

Robin Kazami picked through the twisted clothing racks, carefully rubbing the fabrics between his roughened fingers. The cold season was coming–he needed to find something robust and warm. His old coats from last year had all but bitten the dust and, anyways, didn’t fit anymore. He wanted to find two new ones here. Maybe even three.

He hummed as he searched, reasonably content for a fifteen-year-old kid living on his own after the end of the world. He’d found some canned peaches in a grocery store earlier that day and used a bit of his flour and butter to make them into cobbler over the dinner fire. That was probably what had him in such a good mood. 

“Hey, that’s nice,” he muttered to himself, thumb sliding over something thick and soft–a sweater? He gave it a tug, pulling it closer for inspection. “Ugh, but it’s green,” he groaned. “No way.” With a sigh, he pushed it back into the rack and resumed his humming. 

It was clear that other survivors–maybe even a full-on group of them–had already been through this store. Robin could tell by the absence of what really would have done him some good.

[theheropose]

Khome's racing career ended in a literal explosion at the onset of the zombie apocalypse. Now, he's the de facto leader/caretaker of a survivor group hidden away in a small wildlife reserve. Life is surprisingly good, considering that it's the end of the world. Until, that is, he and Robin let in the wrong traveler.

A zombie apocalypse. But a cozy one.