sometimes I really really really really really want to write the sort of OTP that people ship with the fires of a thousand burning suns
the sort of ship that people ache to end together
the sort of otp that wrings people hollow and dry because it never happens because circumstances will not allow it because something or someone stands in the way and even though they’re like SOUL MATES they’re perfectly meant to be and it’s SO clear and you can SEE it
they won’t be
and it will break hearts
shatter hearts
and people will be mad at me
or something
idk
I want to write it. :|
sorry Michelle
getjoontomy-y inquired: "I challenge you to write a one-shot featuring characters of reaped! in which someone finds out your MC has been secretly working for the other side~ for a while. Go Go!"Whew, that was sort of difficult at first - considering I haven’t done any work on Reaped! since revamping EVERYTHING - but I had a lot of fun! I don’t know how much will even be used in the eventual future but it was fun to explore the possibility! And I got a good 1,200 words out of it in one night so YAY!
Here it is! :D
Reaped! [or my fourth attempt at NaNoWriMo]
Caught between life and the afterlife is where they get you. Uncertain and confused, souls not ready to go on are sometimes propositioned for an ambiguous club of certainty and eternity. Do you even know what will happen when you pass on? Do you even continue to exist? And before the Welcoming Committee knows it, in fear of oblivion, you have (literally) sold your soul to the Committee of Afterlife Preservation with only a positive credit balance to your name.
It’s too bad no one informed you the Committee of Afterlife Preservation is an ambiguous code for “Grim Reaper”.
Now, repeat after me: Welcome to the afterlife, please enjoy your stay.
* * *
So once upon a time, I had this 80,000+ word unfinished project called Shadow Guardians about people who committed suicide and were to reap souls as punishment, but uhmmmmmmm. I have since decided that is INCREDIBLY touchy and I’d handled it QUITE badly and alfjdlkfjad it couldn’t exist that way. But I love the cast of characters and I love the ideas of reapers so I decided to revamp the entire story and here we are.
Georgie Holliday has just found herself amongst the Committee of Afterlife Preservation (CAP) and isn’t quite certain how much she likes the idea of collecting a list of souls - but that could be because her partner Damion is a major asshole. Fortunately, in her training sessions, she falls into a group of kids who are in the same boat as her and they forge a group of reluctant reapers. It’s better than leaving the souls to rot and get trapped in the world of the living - or worse, to corrupt.
Unfortunately, large cases of corrupting souls are cropping up more and more. Some souls are inherentlybad, but this is just beyond coincidence. Whispers about a renegade group of Reapers carry through CAP and it is entirely possible Georgie is about to be roped intoway morethan she ever bargained for.
Blah blah that’s a really gross synopsis cos I am bad at them and also because how do you write a synopsis for a story that doesn’t quite exist? Anyway: we have reapers, we have great friendships, we have some renegades, and we have a bit of action. Yup!
Surpriiiiiiiiise I changed my mind, it’s impossible for me to not do NaNo so I AM DOING NANO
probably working on my Guardians reboot. Idk I realize it starts tomorrow and I don’t have a whole lot to go off of but WE WILL SEE WHAT I CAN MANAGE. :D
(I realized I still call it a Guardians reboot even though I’ve ditched the name Shadow Guardians and now called it Reaped! but old habits die hard)
OH!
maybe
the reapers reside in purgatory
(I should still give it a name maybe probably)
BUT YES
note to self yes,
much as I’d LOVE to stay on the internet and talk about gr8 things (like Godfrey Gao playing Magnus Bane and Queen Cersei playing Jocelyn [shh I know her name is Lena Headey]) I have to take my leave ;_____;
off to go to my first job training session. Kind of nervous which is silly because I already have the job but you know. alfjdlfkjadlkjak it’s just how I work shhhh just rub my back and tell me everything will be okay :333
Anyway I have to bid you all farewell, go finish making myself pretty and yeah
p.s. may barf some ideas at you later, tumblr. I decided to take an old book/series I was working on and basically RIPPED it apart and took those remaining shreds to rework the entire world. Like, the only thing that remains, basically, is the cast and the fact that they are unwilling reapers.
alfjdfljadlkja
I DON’T KNOW TUMBLR I’M REALLY EXCITED AND I’M REALLY PLEASED? LIKE. I WAS FEELING REALLY BAD ABOUT THE FIRST BOOK WHICH SUCKS COS I WAS IN LOVE WITH IT AT FIRST
BUT LIKE
I DONNO
IT STILL NEEDS A LOT OF WORK AND I NEED TO WORK ON AN OVERALL PLOT
so I’ll get my trusty writing buddies/opinions I highly value to help me work on something but like
afldjlajd
I just
IF I START BARFING FEELS
JUST PET MY HEAD AND SMILE AT ME AND GIVE ME ENCOURAGING NOISES
OKAY?
YEAH
YEAH!!!!!
o2. accusation
I shouldn’t even be surprised, I shouldn’t even be questioning things, but I am. I am sitting there with a peacock on a leash, trying to figure out how these situations even happen in the first place when it’s all too obvious, given the way Rob and Grayson are shouting and the f-bomb is dropping – pew pew pew – like nuclear warfare. The peacock contributes his own vocals to the discussion, a weird bird cry I can’t quite describe as more than a repetitious wailing; it seems he’s not terribly fond of Grayson’s favorite word.
Eeeer-EH, eeeeeeer-EH!
I know buddy, I hate it, too.
“I didn’t think you were going to steal it!” Rob is shouting, his expression as incredulous as his voice. If I didn’t know better, I’d think his eyes would pop out of their sockets.
“I fucking told you. Bring the van. I have a peacock.”
“I didn’t think they were connected!”
“Bring the fucking van, I have a fucking peacock!”
I rub the spot between my eyebrows where a throbbing pain has been growing worse and worse. In the driver’s seat, Javier is singing something I don’t recognize; his Arabic tongue pronounces words I don’t think mine ever could. Either way, he seems blissfully ignorant of the Robson tiff taking place – probably because this is a weekly occurrence. After all this time shared on this summer tour, you’d think we’d all have gotten used to this.
I think this is how Rob and Graysonn express their love.
“Can I ask,” I begin, giving the leash a bit of a tug, “why we have a stolen peacock in our tour van anyway?”
Grayson turns to me, his face etched with the most duh! expression I’ve ever witnessed: mouth dropped open, brows sloped, as if I’m the most stupid thing he’s laid eyes upon. Shrugging it away, he rights himself and lifts his chin.
“Some fucking asshole and I got into it,” he explains in a flippant tone, glancing out the window. “Called me a few unsavory fucking names, too. So fucking I took his fucking peacock.”
It should be easy, but I’m just not following, so I look at Rob instead. Rob, though, is eying me with a look that plainly reads You were supposed to be watching him.
Probably.
Babysitter Oliver Quick, at your service. The only one who can break these two idiots up, the only one with a decent enough relationship with everyone to not get into shouting matches over stolen peacocks.
I use the only threat that ever possibly works on Grayson King. Lifting one brow, adopting his lofty tone, I say to him as I reach for my phone, “Wait ‘til Emmy hears about this incident.”
Eyes wide, face pale, Grayson flings out his arms and shouts “No!” with such conviction, Javier slams on the breaks and everyone spills to the floor.
dedicated to Michelle <3
I may or may not be WRITING alfjdkajdlkjalkjd
I should not be so excited except I AM AHHHHHHH
o1. beginning
“We need to buy a microwave,” I point out.
Oliver groans. “This list doesn’t end. Stop making the list, Miss Roi, put down the pen!”
I tap his nose with the pen – a biff, dad would call it. The sort of motion reserved for dogs who leave puddles in the kitchen. He responds to my admonishment the same way such a dog might: jerks back and dips his face and looks up at me with reproach. “You’re so mean, Roi, always abusing me. Someone will find out, one day. What will you do then, hm? Answer me that, Miss Roi.”
I give him a toppling shove that sends him on his back to the grass and above us the stars wink and twinkle.
I still get the thrill, the falling sensation in my stomach. My hand brushes against his – electric spark – and I think of our waiting apartment. Shared spaces have never seemed so intimate as when I think of them shared with him. Closets filled not just with me, but him as well. Nooks and crannies stuffed with every sense of us, inescapable, unavoidable. It’s almost scary – almost almost almost – until I prop myself on elbows and hopes and expectations and a thirsty gaze drinks him in. Autumn in summertime, all cheeky grins and knowing glances, always just one step ahead. I don’t always hate to follow, but I never concede this to him.
“Picture frames,” he says, opening one eye to watch me.
“Picture frames.”
“We’ll be that annoying couple. The ones with their faces plastered all over the walls. In every room, in every hallway, our smiling faces and lovey dovey smiles will remind everyone we are in love, truly madly deeply.”
“Oh my God, shut up.”
“Don’t roll your eyes. Truly. Madly. Deeply. You’ll never be able to forget – even when you swoon over Captain Jack and the Wallaby Gang.”
“Oh my God, shut up.”
And he does. Arms around my waist he pulls me into the grass and silences me and only the stars and the moon witness the beginning, the future, the overflow of hopes and dreams and earnest desires.
Errrrm. Just realized I still owe some of you guys some one sentence fics. OOPS. UH. PROMISE I WILL WORK ON THEM *o*
(bad Ashlie how could you forget that ;A; oops ooops I thought I’d finished them all!)
(but you know. If you want a one sentence fic written by meeeee erm. Leave a shipping/pairing/character in my ask with a one-word prompt *o* Yeah?)
(But I swear I’ll get to these!)
Leave a ship/pairing + a prompt/word in my ask and I will write a one-sentence fanfic about them.
IT’S THAT TIME AGAIN! You know how it goes 8-)
I’ll get something going for you soon :3
Just in case you guys missed it last night. 8-)
(I feel weird reblogging myself omg)
And for those I got last niiiight I’m going to start working on those.
Leave a ship/pairing + a prompt/word in my ask and I will write a one-sentence fanfic about them.
IT’S THAT TIME AGAIN! You know how it goes 8-)
I’ll get something going for you soon :3
snowfleuries inquired: "Aaaaaaaaaashlie, write me something adorable to read. :(":3333 Maybe
maybemaybemaybe
MAAAAAYBE
I can whip up something with Annie and Ellie and Robin for you? Cos I’ve been missing them lately.
The Extraordinary Mr. Quick - an excerpt
This snippet actually for a with this last one I posted. I’m preeeetty sure in the typed document, this scene is necessarily changed a bit, but the gist is the same. Something tells me Roi and I would make agreeable drunks ;)
“No,” I say out loud. “I just won’t drink.”
“Good.” Poppy nudges me with her elbow. “Acting like a cat at a gig won’t get us any hook-ups.”
Rolling my eyes, I shove her to the ground. “Ugh! Shut up! We never discuss those nights!”
She lays on her back, eyes squeezed shut while she laughs. “You were laying on the table,” she wheezes, “and every time someone passed,” more laughter, “you batted at people and meowed.”
“Shut up shut up!”
I leap on to her and attempt to clamp my hand over her mouth. Still raked with hysterics, Poppy writhed and squirms beneath me, trying to fight me off. We wrestle around and Poppy keeps meowing. My face warms at the memory.
Or, what I THINK I remember. A lot of it is pieced together from what others told me of the night.
It was a great party - one of those last day of school celebrations, thrown in the clearing of a forest. Poppy and I went with her then-boyfriend Xander Harris, Zoe, and a couple of girls we hung out with at school. Something about school ending brought everyone together. Old rivalries fell wayward while everyone drank and danced. Someone set up a sound system, played in the back of a truck, and I remember getting caught up in the music.
I vaguely remember the fifth drink.
I THINK I remember crawling onto the table.
I don’t remember pawing at people or purring.
Luckily for me, Poppy caught that on camera. She also caught on video my sloppy make out session with skeevy Zach Mullencraft. It included a brief prelude in which he petted my hair and said, “That’s my good kitty.”
Like I said. It was a good party.
“I will NOT do a repeat.”
“Good, because I need to lure boys so I can get my mack on and tour episodes will totally derail and… And…” She frowns and wrinkles her nose.
I smile and ruffled her hair. “I know what you’re getting at.”
