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
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 heâd been kneeling in the grass, and switched on his rifleâs safety mechanism. It wouldnât 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. Heâd have to shoot another one, then, if he wanted to feed the whole group. Neither Titus nor Bird ate muchâand neither did Toguro himself, come to think of itâbut one skinny bunny split between three people just wasnât enough no matter how he looked at it. Â
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.Â
Within minutes, heâd shot and cleaned a second rabbitâthis one much meatier. âNice,â he muttered to himself. âThat should be enough.â
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.Â
Titus has probably finished packing. Toguro chewed his lip as he thought, putting the numbers together. Heâll be heading this way. An hour out, Iâd guess. He looked around, as if checking to make sure the other boy hadnât already arrived. Well⌠I'd better make sure he doesnât miss meâŚ
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 otherâs was dark, auburn-ish, and curly, flopping into his forehead.Â
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.Â
It was a rickety old country diner, leaning to one side, and furnished like a hunterâs trophy room. But Ekusu loved it. Finding it, unclaimed yet in good repair, had been like stumbling into heaven on earth. Especially when heâd 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 buildingâs only straight wall.Â
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 couldnât help but sigh contentedly, shuffling just a little closer to the fire.Â
The logs began to crackle, their bark shriveling and turning first black, then white. Ekusu sat back in satisfaction.Â
âShould I cook something?â 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 didnât seem to care. It gasped, empty except for air. He hadnât eaten in hours. Then again, he wasnât 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 shackâs 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.Â
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 itâd been a gunshot, jolting to his feet, spinning around, and holding out his arms. âHuman!â he shouted. âIâm human!â
âI know exactly what you are,â the silhouette in the doorway growled, raising what looked like a clubbed tree branch, and bringing it down over Ekusuâs head.
...
Multi squealed in frustration, smashing her weaponâa stupid blunted branchâwildly 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. âAghâaghâaghâ!â 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. âDang it!â she roared.Â
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 inâthe 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 comingâand a large one at that.Â
Multi ground her teeth together and dropped to her knees at the unconscious boyâs side. âJaxon, you jerk,â she growled and, just for satisfactionâs 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. âI was going to kill you,â she hissed. âBut you justâugh! You just had to be human, didnât you?â
Sheâd come here for revengeâbut she couldnât have it now; not with that party coming towards her. If she killed Jaxon the way he was now, theyâd think sheâd murdered him. They wouldnât know that he was really a zombie. Ugh! She couldnât 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 groupâs attention.Â
She looked down at the boy, lying there, his hair matted to his scalp, his chest rising and falling rhythmically, still very much aliveâand then slammed her fist into the ground. âAgh!â she shouted.Â
Fine! So heâll live one more day. Whatever. I can wait.Â
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 âneeded a breakâ or something like that. Whatever.
With a yelp, he made a snatch in the water, jerking up suddenly and hucking a fishâa small, wriggly brown troutâonto the shore. âScore!â 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. âThatâs what Iâm talking about!â
He crouched down over the gasping, goggling-eyed fish cheerfully. âWow,â he sighed. âIâm so good at this.âÂ
One flopped unappreciatively over his bare foot.
âEwâyuck! Keep your slime to yourself!â He scrambled back, scraping his toes off in the grass and gagging. âUgh⌠Bad fishy.â 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. âIâm gonna eat you first,â he moped.
A twig cracked behind him.Â
âMulti?â he turned around.Â
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 Jaxonâs 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.Â
Not so good.
âHowdy!â Jaxon squawked suddenly. âHow long have you been standing there?â
They glared at him.Â
âYou look a little hungry,â he tried again, and glanced down at the rebel trout in his fists. âWant some fish?â He held it out. âThereâs plenty!â
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 zombieâs faces with a meaty, suckering thwap.
Jaxon wilted. âAw, crap.â
All five of the gray-skinned creatures roared, voices screeching, dry as reeds, and plunged into the stream.Â
Jaxon shrieked and toppled into a sprint in the other direction. âMulti!â he howled, âMulti!â
âŚ
Climbing the slope had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now he was having second thoughts.Â
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 didnât 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.
âHelp,â he whined halfheartedly, giving his feet a pathetic little kick. âTheyâre gonna eat me. Somebody do something.â
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 âholy snap,â and he realized he was maybe wrong.Â
âHey! Hey!â he gasped, starting back into motion almost like heâd be shocked.âYou!â He snapped his right hand upwards, snatching onto a new handhold and dragging himself up. âHelp me out!â
âYeah, just hold on!â the head, which was eclipsing the sun, silhouetted to near black, shouted back, and then ducked away, disappearing over the edge.Â
âIâm trusting you!â Jaxon screamed, jerking his left foot out of the zombieâs 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. âGrab on!â the voice above him yelped. âClimb! Come on, climb!â
Jaxon did, shrieking âpull, pull, pull!â 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
âUgh!â the head above him coughedâJaxon heard the whump of its ownerâs chest flattening against the cliffside. âGuh-gotcha!â
âTh-thanks!â 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 guyâs arms and shoulders until he could collapse over in safety, flopping like a pancake into the pillowy grass at the top of the slope.Â
Equally windedâprobably because Jaxon had accidentally stomped the breath out of him while scrambling upâhis rescuer slumped over, too, gagging slightly as he pulled in air. âYou⌠good?â he managed.
âUh⌠uh-huh,â Jaxon said, asphyxiating comfortably in the corner.Â
They both recovered at about the same time, and dragged themselves into sitting positions with long, achy groans.
It was Jaxonâs 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.
âUmâŚ,â his rescuer started. âWhere exactly did you come from?â
âŚ
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? Theyâd agreed that heâd 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 didnât bother.
Heâd stumble back into camp eventually, if he didnât get himself either injured or lost. Or both. And he never had up until then. So.Â
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. âHowdy hey!â he cauterwailed, his bright, cheery voice breaking like an axe murderer through Multiâs train of thought.Â
She snapped her book shut so fast the pages clapped. âJaxon!â she cried, climbing onto her feet and stomping towards her companion, who had come waddling out of the treeline. âWhere have you been? Itâs been almost threeâ!â
She stopped when another boy stepped out of the foliage.
He was a giant compared to Jaxon, broad shouldered and muscularâor, as muscular as anyone was after the end of the worldâwith 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.
âWhoâs that?â she shot at her companion.
Jaxon gave her a bouncy, clueless shrug, his blue bangs flouncing. âHow should I know?â
âMy name is Robin,â the newcomer cut in hastily. âHe ran into me in the woods.â
Multi stared between them, her gaze cutting a sharp diagonal. Â
Khrome freed one of his arms from under the shooter kidâs shoulder and drummed his knuckles against the Pillbox door.
Robin stuck out his foot and kicked it a few times. âMan, this guy is heavier than he looks,â he moaned, nearly staggering over with the effort.Â
Khrome was feeling it, too. âMeiko!â He called again.Â
âBoys?â
âMeiko!â Robin gasped. The voice had come from behind them. He pulled the shooter boyâs arm tighter over his shoulder and wheeled around. âWe foundâ!â
The vetâs soup bowl toppled out her hand, smacking into the dust with a dull thud.Â
âOh,â she said eventually. âYou found another one.â
Dawn clawed like a wraith over the hills, digging bleak, icy nails into the landscape and bleaching the forest gray.Â
Cielâs 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.Â
He was small and wiry and looked like he was roughly Robinâs 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.Â
âWhatâs that smell?â Yuni whined, physically recoiling from Cielâs slouched, unconscious form, and plugging her nose with a dainty little gag. Fair enough. All the staggering nearly pulled Khrome, who was supporting the kidâs right shoulderâYuni was supposed to be propping up his leftâover. He flung his feet out wildly and leaned back to counteract her jerking.Â
âItâs gasoline,â he explained.
âDid he drink it?â
âWhat--no! Come on. Letâs just get him to the Pillbox.â
Robin was vigorously sautĂŠing 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. âRyugu! Kazami!â
Both young men leapt half out of their skins.
âToguro!â Robin squeaked, slamming his frying pan back down atop the burner. âDonât do that!â
âWhat is it?â Khrome gasped. He caught sight of the manâs armed gun and dropped a little lower behind the counter. âCan we help you with something?â
âCome on,â Toguro beckoned to them urgently, already shuffling back the way heâd come, a pained expression pulling at his face like a fishing hook. âWe found a survivor at the borderâheâs a wild one.â
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 wasnât looking at her, his gaze unfocused, staring ahead at the path. âWhat do you mean?â she asked.
âI donât know,â he admitted. âThings were just⌠different.â A smile crept up the side of his mouth. âWe were all nobodies.â
âIâm not sure that we were,â Kris chuckled. âWerenât we all teenagers whenâ?â
âI mean before that,â Shu smiled. âWhen we were kids.âÂ
âI donât know if I remember back that far.â
Shu laughed. âI do.â
Kris eyed him, waiting for the snowy-haired captain to continue.
âMy parents would leave me alone for days on end, so I used to climb the trees in the neighborâs orchard. At first just for fun. And then to pick apples.â He grinned. âI 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.â
Kris quirked an eyebrow. âI didnât know.â
He nodded, his hand finding its place atop the hilt of one of his sheathed axes. âIâm better known for these,â he sighed as if by way of explanation.
âWhatâs got you thinking about back then?â she wondered aloud.
His fingers tightened around the axeâs shaft. It didnât slip past her notice. âNothing, I guess. It was just a long time ago. If you had told me then who Iâd become, I wouldnât have believed it. I didnât know I could Resonate. Iâd never touched a weapon. I maybe knew the kingâs last name.â
Robin Kazami picked through the twisted clothing racks, carefully rubbing the fabrics between his roughened fingers. The cold season was comingâhe needed to find something robust and warm. His old coats from last year had all but bitten the dust and, anyways, didnât 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. Heâd 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.Â
âHey, thatâs nice,â he muttered to himself, thumb sliding over something thick and softâa sweater? He gave it a tug, pulling it closer for inspection. âUgh, but itâs green,â he groaned. âNo way.â With a sigh, he pushed it back into the rack and resumed his humming.Â
It was clear that other survivorsâmaybe even a full-on group of themâhad already been through this store. Robin could tell by the absence of what really would have done him some good.
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.