#wip: katastrophie

[cataclysmic-writer]

ROYGBIV Tag Game

Rules: Find a sentence in your WIPs with each color. Thanks @kaylinalexanderbooks

Red - from Katastrophie

Production had turned an office into a makeshift trainer’s room, complete with a red cross taped to the door.

Orange - from The Imperial Con

The bombers dove. Artillery fire exploded across the sky, sending bursts of black and orange across my vision. I could almost smell the smoke.

Yellow - The Imperial Con

“It was under his pillow. Wonder what other secrets he has lying around...” To land the punchline, I lifted the mattress revealing a loose, yellowed envelope speckled with dirt.

Green - from The Imperial Con

I turned back to my machine. Above me, a light perched on the machine, blinking green. I watched it flash, almost hypnotic. Metal shrieked as it scraped through the press.

Blue - from The Imperial Con

Before I could ask more, a low hum echoed through the clouds. A small squadron of fighters descended on the runway; white, red, and blue circles decorated the wings. “Are those yours?” I yelled over the noise.

Indigo -

N/A

Violet -

N/A

This was fun! I probably have the other two colors somewhere in short stories BUT there's a lot of those to go through, so we'll leave it as is. I'll tag @surroundedbypearls @qelizhus @serpentarii @writinglyra to play!

Learn more about Katastrophie

Learn more about The Imperial Con

Ask to be added to either taglist!

[cataclysmic-writer]

“How much longer?” Jericho sat up just enough to flip the radio to a new station. The speakers buzzed with static and Jericho whacked it.  “Hey!” Kas snapped, shoving Jericho’s hand away. “Do you want to walk across the rest of Kentucky? Be gentle, asshole.” He’d bought the truck second-hand from a farmer who used it to tow livestock, and driving it wasn’t too different from playing Russian Roulette with a wet pistol: safe for now, but eventually explosive.

An introduction to Kas and his wrestling partner, Jericho. From Katastrophie

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[flannelplanet]

I was wondering if you are currently working on any Bughead fics and if you aren’t, then hopefully you could give me a few recommendations. I love and appreciate both you and your work, you are an incredible person and I am thankful to have you.

Oh anon you are so sweet!!! And thank you for sending me this and asking... Yes, I’m working on two bughead fics at the moment!

Stranger Than Fiction (WIP- 5/8)With the wine lowering her inhibitions, Betty threw caution to the wind. She clicked the “follow” button up at the top right corner of his blog. For some reason, her fingers were shaking. Following that blog was an extremely uncharacteristic move, however she felt invigorated by her decision. And nervous. She sighed and began reading his latest post, allowing his words to wash over her and calm her nerves.“I am the man of your dreams. Tall, dark, and handsome. I have my hand stretched out towards you. You’re feeling hesitant so I encourage you with a slight nod and a soft smile. Though you know better, you take my hand regardless and we leave this hell-hole of a party. You’re wearing your Little Black Dress and I swear I can see your peaked nipples through the fabric. Your white gold necklace is draped beautifully over your collar bones and I find myself hard at the thought of replacing it with something I've given you, when the time is right, of course."

The other is called Broken Bones and is a lounge singer AU. I’m very excited about it but it’s nowhere close to being done. 

As for fic recs, well of course I have them! I’m really digging these WIPs:

Try Me On (Baby) by @it-happened-one-starry-night 

Shooter by @lazydaizies

Jones Industries by @bugheadotp

Paper Hearts by @a-katastrophy

Haunted by @mayberrry101

Smoke and Glitter by @tory-b

Painted in Flames by @ohkingsteve

The Art of Redamancy by @xxbettysgirlxx

Ordinary Days by @juggiehasmyheart17

Ouroboros by @elegantmoonchild

If you want my favorite completed works, you’ll have to send another ask because there would be far too many to include here lol.

Thanks again for sending this! ♥

[youbuildmeupbeliever]

***BIG thank for to @oleekingcole for the header <3***

Chapters: 7/? Fandom: Riverdale (TV 2017), Archie Comics, Archie Comics & Related Fandoms Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: bughead, Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones, Betty Cooper & Jughead Jones Characters: Betty Cooper, Jughead Jones Additional Tags: bughead - Freeform, Bughead fic, bughead fan fic, bughead fan fiction, Betty Cooper - Freeform, betty and archie, Fluff, Sex, Romance, Break Up, Hook Up, toni topaz - Freeform, Kevin Keller - Freeform, Veronica Lodge - Freeform, the riverdale register, reporter betty, investigator betty, Journalist Betty, journalist jughead, Riverdale, southside serpents, fp jones - Freeform, serpent Jughead, serpent toni, flirtation, Attraction, Heart Break, bad relationship between betty and archie, no friendship between archie and jughead, the register Summary:

Riverdale AU: Disaster has fallen upon The Riverdale Register while Betty Cooper is running the newspaper in her parents absence. She has fired all of the journalists and needs replacements quickly. So when Jughead Jones comes back into town as a successful journalist, himself, it would only make sense that Betty would hire him to fill one of the open positions. But their old high school rivalry comes into play and things are strained in the office. But are the cutting remarks and angst ridden scowls only hiding the intense attraction simmering just below the surface? And how long before they can no longer fight it?

My Thoughts : Enemies to lovers? So where do I sign up? Betty has taken over The Register and has fired all of the journalists. Enter Jughead Jones, successful journalist who applies a position. Him and Betty were high school rivals, but he’s got the experience and the skill, but Betty is hesitant to hire him. Of course she ends up hiring him, and they quickly develop feelings for each other. Betty has been dating Archie for years, and their relationship is nothing to be desired. Jughead and Betty are so hot for each other, and there’s definitely some drama surrounding them. Throw in a little mystery for our detective duo, and you’ve got the makings of an awesome story. I love pretty much everything @a-katastrophy writes. The updates are always super regular, and there’s always great plot and character development. I love the enemy to lovers trope, and this definitely serves it up well. I also really enjoy confident and successful Jughead in this fic, it’s not necessarily something we see a lot of. This is a great WIP that offers all the fluff with some added smut. It’s pretty lighthearted so far, and I absolutely love seeing updates for this one!

Thanks for reading my recommendations! Hope this will help fill your need for more Bughead. Please let me know how you liked this, if/what I should change or add.

[sjazdoeswriting]

Writer meme! WIP edition!

Yay! I got tagged by the ever so lovely @amethystinawrites, and I’ve been trying to mull this over since! I have so many projects and WIPs, omggggggg...! I’m getting better at finishing things but I’m still better at starting them.

Anyway! Have a couple of WIPs from my current active projects! There’ll be both fanfics and some “original” works (aka works featuring RP-characters between me and friends), and I’m gonna start with the original ones. Gonna be a long one, tho, foiks, because apparently I can’t keep things short. So hold onto your seatbelts, and look under the cut ;) 

I tag: @alkizen, @sassynightcat, @totallyfrandom, @katastrophy, @oneamongathousand

Shift My Heart — Urban fantasy-ish/post-semiapocalypse Characters owned by @enlitenvarulv and myself

Caught in the moment as he was, Darien flinched when there was a loud yelp on the other side of him, and another beast like the one Alae had just felled tumbled down close enough to almost have its head on top of Darien’s lap. He stared at the beast, its teeth gleaming in what little light they had, and stumbled to his feet. Alae grabbed his arm firmly just as Darien was about to topple over anew from the force and the pain in his legs, snarling something inaudible — probably offending — before speaking up anew.

“Y’alright? Oliva’s gonna have me head if yer no’, so wo’k wit’ me, alrite?”

“Y-yeah, yeah alright.” Darien drew a few breaths and cleared his throat, glancing to Alae while trying to get his legs to stand firm. “What was that?”

“Changelin’,” Alae said as if it would explain everything. “Listen, we don’ ‘ave time tah explain bettah’ than tha’, alrite? Changelin’s a’ a pest and they be havin’ companiuns beasts, which will be furious when we kill the’ changelin’s an’ attack acco’dingleh. Yeah?

Darien exhaled, biting back the exhaustion, and gave Alae a wry, if a bit forced, smile.

“Damn it, Collins, you need to work on your English — soon I’ll be needing translating.”

“Fock o’, James,” Alae replied, but snorted on a laugh and let go of his arm. “Don’ go faintin’ on me, yeah?”

“Got it.”

Alae winked and returned to the battle. Remaining in place for another few seconds, Darien tried his hardest not to let his gaze stray to either beast on each side of him — the “companions” as Alae called them — or the changeling, instead only gathering enough strength to head back into the fight.

The fact that the changeling still sported hazy hints of red hair and freckles was something Darien furiously denied himself to even think about. Slowly but surely the lake returned to some kind of stillness, except for the indication of something moving just underneath its surface.

Darien refused to think of that, too. 

Drive — Dystopian modern day Characters owned by @lienwyn and myself

Gideon had to give the guy a lot of credit. Despite Gideon's knowledge of runners and their way of thinking, he hadn't actually noticed when the other entered his office.

Of course, turning around and finding a young man he hadn’t expected leaning against his desk wasn't the best way to keep said young man alive. The other got to know that first-hand when he, a split second after Gideon first noticed him, had to stare down the barrel of a gun.

"Whoa, easy there, big guy!"

The guy's hands shot into the air, palms facing Gideon in a display of being unarmed and non-threatening. Gideon didn't fail to notice the panic flashing by in the other's eyes, and ultimately that was why he lowered the gun again, eyes still on the other.

"You're a runner," Gideon stated coolly, holding back on information — like asking if the other was the runner — as a mean to force the guy to give his.

With the gun out of the way, the other tentatively lowered his hands, and the panic in his eyes gave way for wariness. His face, however, changed into that of a rather impressive condescendence.

"Damn, you saw right through me," he drawled. "What on Earth gave me away? My super awesome office infiltration skills, or the fact that you asked for one?"

"And a mouthy one at that, just my luck."

Gideon rolled his eyes, putting the gun away where it would yet again be unseen, then crossed his arms over his chest, and eyed the other more closely. The guy looked quite the part of a runner, with comfortable, practical clothes, good running shoes — worn, but that hardly came as a surprise — and agile body language. The multiple necklaces were a surprise though — Gideon had thought them quite impractical on a runner — but the wind tousled hair wasn't.

There was something familiar about him, however, although Gideon couldn't quite put his finger on what or why. Not yet, anyway.

"If you dislike my mouth, you—“ Something flashed by in the other’s eyes, and he smoothly changed track, giving a deadpan: ”I suppose you're lucky that my main job puts focus on my feet.”

Gideon would probably have smiled if it weren't for their situation. But because of the situation, he wasn't as inclined to be amused.

"Indeed I am," he said, voice drawing towards a growl, then moved over to get around his desk.

Stones — Urban fantasy, 1920-ish Characters owned by @lienwyn and myself

”Tsk tsk... Going at it again, Zayed?”

Sophie froze at the foreign voice, coming from outside her field of attention, and turned around to spot whoever had spoken.

It was with shock, and dread, that she realised there were not one but two more creatures coming up a nearby trail: one with green skin and purple hair, the other with blue skin – darker than Abeo's – and black hair with blue ends. She could not make out which one of them that had talked, since both had their eyes on Abeo, but her gaze was inevitably drawn to the blackhaired one, currently scratching his neck with a look of utter dismissal on his face.

Sophie wished that she would wake up from the crazy nightmare, wondering if this was all a dream and whether she was truly asleep somewhere – the bunkbed back at the excavation camp, perhaps.

”Zayed!”

The green skinned creature suddenly took a number of rushed steps over to Abeo, raising his hands as if to touch the other's arms and shoulders, yet flinched and lowered them again before he actually did, as if catching himself doing something he should not be doing. With surprise Sophie realised that the emotion displayed in his green eyes was concern.

”You stupid idiot!” he barked, making Sophie inch back, not wanting to gain the attention of yet another upset creature. ”You got yourself hurt! Severely too, or you would've healed already!”

”Do not concern yourself with my well-fare, Dex,” Abeo brushed him off coldly – using a tone of voice that had Sophie shiver – and looked between the newcomers.

To Sophie it seemed as if she and Isaia could just as well have been nothing but smoke.

”What are the two of you doing here?” Abeo demanded. The green skinned creature took a step back and gingerly scratched his nose with a faint grimace, while the black-haired one merely rested one hand in the pockets of worn pants and shrugged.

”A gate keeper unleashed its power. As Generals present at such a time we're obliged to go see what's going on, which you know very well. Plus—” he added, a lopsided smile curling his lips and his eyes flashing with something Sophie did not have time to identify, ”—the stench of blood can hardly be ignored.”

”Generals,” the woman held her arms out and bowed with grace and respect. ”These humans—”

”Yes, yes.” The black-haired creature waved dismissively with one hand, efficiently silencing the woman. ”Don't bother.”

”Stripe...” the green skinned one scolded with a sigh of resignation, as if having admitted defeat long ago but remaining unwilling to entirely let go of his principles.

The impression was strengthened further as the black-haired one paid no mind to the scolding, instead merely continuing as if he had not heard anything to begin with.

”Let me guess: these humans stumbled out of the gate, caked in blood and mud, terrified — or well, she was terrified, he was... feverishly obsessed? — and after but a moment's contemplation you, Beithari, took offence and attacked? Of course it didn't actually work due to the Viael, but it was a good try. Then Mr. Grumpypants over there—” he made a casual, sloppy gesture towards Zayed, ”—showed up, using his smarts and now we're all a happy family, wondering what to do with the naughty children tripping over our doorstep, yes?”

Guess Mama’s Night — Urban fantasy Characters owned by @katastrophy and myself

My fingers itch to get inside the building.

After the many times I've visited, I know the flaws in security. Most of them, at least. Enough to know that I'm able to get in and out without being seen. But the risk of being found trespassing on Vincetti grounds has so far kept me from attempting anything.

Today, my veins burn with yearning to see it. To the point where I've almost convinced myself that a quick peek cannot be too bad. That getting into the garden, to begin with, cannot be that much of a risk.

I don't even know why I want it anymore. If it's because I want to know if we do have ties to the family, or if it's because it's a challenge. That in itself should have been a warning sign grand as the mansion before me, but I completely blank it out.

One visit. One quick trespass.

That can't be too bad, right?

I manage two steps before I feel a pinch of dread, just between my shoulderblades, as if being watched. Stopping immediately, the feeling disappears, but I remain frozen where I stand, staring at the mansion before me, knowing what a stupid idea it is but still feeling the burning desire to go on. To go further.

Drawing a deep breath, I slowly turn away, taking a slow step back towards the square to leave. The whole thing is a stupid idea. I know that. I know it's bad on so many levels.

And yet...

Motionless once again, blood rushes through my ears, making all other sounds dull and distant. The streets are more or less empty, and I see no one. Hear no one. There's not a trace of anyone in the vicinity of the estate.

Which is why I turn back to it.

Staring at the gates surrounding the garden I grit my teeth, I draw a breath, and then I burst into running. It's no more than maybe twenty-five or thirty feet before I reach the gates, but the adrenaline's pumping in my ears so loudly that all other sounds are drenched. Using the low stone railing as a spring board and my momentum as a driving force, I manage to jump high enough to hold onto the top of the fence and swing my legs over the top. Pushing myself from the fence while still in the air is harder, and the gap between me and the pointy bits meant to scare intruders — like myself — away is uncomfortably small, but I make it.

I land unceremoniously on the grass, stumbling and toppling over to fall on my side. Even more so, I remain in that position, trying to catch my breath and calm my racing heart.

The whole ordeal of crossing the street and breaching the fence has taken no more than maybe four seconds, but my body rages as if I have run a marathon. Heart racing, lungs burning, muscles trembling — even my hands and feet are pounding.

Panting, I force myself to my feet, drawing further into the garden and out of sight from the street on reflex. There's no one out there, but I cannot stay in the illusion that no one would come by, and remember that anyone can come by, or look through a window, at any time. Despite the few steps it means my whole body's shaking from the effort.

Realising just what a toll it's been on me merely to get into the garden, I reluctantly start contemplating if going through with the rest of the plan will actually be worth it. I will have to cross the garden, scale one of the walls and climb the bannister of the third floor balcony, then get inside and look around. And then I'll have to have enough strength to get back out.

It just doesn't seem worth it.

But I can't deny that I'm as curious as ever. That the adrenaline from succeeding to even get into the garden is fuelling the sense of triumph. The feeling of invincibility.

I take a step forward, just about to make up my mind about whether to go ahead or go back, when the choice is taken from me.

The hand that lands on my shoulder leaves no room for arguments.

Put A Stake Through My Heart — Vampire the Masquerade inspired LARP Characters owned by @sassynightcat, @oneamongathousand and myself

For a painstaking second Jewel had to hold back another sob, her grip around the handle shivering while she tried to keep herself together. Easier said than done.

Accepting that the situation was as good as it was going to get, Jewel bit back the last of the feelings wanting to drown her, and stepped inside the room. She didn't feel like smiling. Didn't feel like gloating.

We have to become what we were meant to be.

”You know,” she said out into the room, voice flat, while she slowly moved over towards the coffin. ”You think you know someone, and then you learn that all you thought was wrong.”

She stopped by the glass box, resting one hand on its edge. No change in Beatrice face, no wavering eyes, or shaking lips. No changes. None what so ever.

”I really wanted to be of use to her,” she said lowly, closing her eyes halfway. ”I thought I would be her Childe, and hated my Sire for taking that from me. But now, she—”

Drawing a deep breath, feeling her lungs ache in protest when muscles no longer needed was forced to work more than ever, the cold knot inside her chest tightened even further.

”I hated you for taking my place.” She glanced down to Beatrice, reaching down and brushing over the other's cheek. ”I hated you for having her love, when she gave me nothing but false pretences. I knew, Beatrice, that she didn't want me. I always knew... I just didn't want to realise, didn't want to believe.”

Pulling her hand back, Jewel smiled, faint and mirthless. She still felt drained and confused from her experiences at the Elysium, and she wasn't sure what she was doing, telling Beatrice all these things. It wouldn't change anything, but risk everything if Beatrice ever got out of her situation. But she needed it. Jewel needed to talk to someone, so badly.

”Djinn says I need her and I suppose he's right... he was always more clear-sighted than me. Even Hopesworth treats me with more respect and appreciation than the Madame, and yet she's the one I've sworn my loyalty to.”

Jewel pulled up a knife from inside her bag, folding away the arms of her clothes and made a deep cut in her arm, letting the blood disappear down Beatrice's throat. She should've been extatic, she knew that. A month ago, she would've been, but now she wasn't. There was nothing she wanted to say, to gloat about . Beatrice was in a glass coffin in the dark, kept company only by blackness and rats, but Jewel half envied her nevertheless. At least Beatrice couldn't hold herself responsible for what happened to her.

”If I let you loose, would you forgive me?” she asked. ”Would I even want you to? I doubt it. What I did to you, you should never forgive. Never forget. I cannot forget the kindness of the Madame, but neither can I forget or forgive the contempt I saw on her face when first I saw her after my Embrace.”

She averted her eyes somewhat, pulling her arm back once Beatrice had been given enough.

”Djinn says I need the Madame. That I have her. That he wish he could return to Germany. I don't have the Madame — I never will. I understand that now. The Madame will never accept what I am, never love me like she did when I was human. I was never going to be hers — she would never have let me be anything to her more than a project. Next to Elias, next to you, I was nothing but a moment of interest.”

Bitterness crawled up her throat and spread through her veins like poison.

NOW, FANWORKS!

Jackknife — AC:Liberation, modern AU Aveline/Gérald

“JACK KNIFE”

Aveline studied the name of the hair salon, displayed in big, bold letters on top of a red brick building. The general appearance of the building had her hesitate, its splendour gravely diminished by a construction scaffolding on one side, and a rugged-looking coffee shop on the other. A green sign hanging on three quarters outside the coffee shop had probably once stated its name, but years of exposure to the elements had left only a hazy "L" and "Z" clear enough to be read.

Nothing in the sorry sight before her made Aveline inclined to step inside the salon, and she had doubtlessly left if she hadn't been personally recommended to visit the place in wait for her regular salon to open up after renovations. Connor had apologised for not being able to give a personal review of the place, but he assured her that at least half a dozen of his afro-amerikan classmates had recommended it as a must go-to.

Aveline was beginning to think that these women were either blind, enjoying something completely different than her, or simply wanted to give bad advice. Seeing as Connor couldn't lie to save his life, Aveline couldn't blame him for the possible disasters that was to come.

Despite her suspicions and doubts, Aveline eventually sighed heavily and moved forward, decidedly stepping over the threshold to the salon without giving herself chance to leave.

She really needed to have her hair tended to, and she didn't really have much trust in the average, American-oriented hair salons — good reputation or not, she had found through personal experience that few had adequate knowledge about african-american hair texture and style.

What did she have to lose on trying this one, too? If it turned out a bad experience she could simply not return.

The inside of the salon gave a marginally better impression than the outside. Things were clean, for a start, and a soft, soothing melody played over the loud speakers. Two other patrons were already there — one waiting calmly in a dressing chair, a fashion magazine spread over her lap, the other tended to by a hair dresser, currently getting their hair dyed from the looks of it. Aveline believed the waiting patron to be latina, but the one being dyed did seem to be african-american.

Aveline was suitably calmed by this reassurance.

Simbots — The Avengers Steve/Tony

If Tony hadn't known better he would have thought that Steve Rogers was deliberately ignoring him. The ever so stoic man with the ridiculously blue eyes had been nowhere to be seen the past week and the only time Tony had seen him – standing in the kitchen, talking to Clint about whatever they talked about when they were alone – the other had not even graced him with more than a brief glance before decisively leaving the room.

That had been four days ago.

Tony crossed the space between two workbenches in his lab as if he owned the place — oh wait, he did — and picked up a pair of red gloves: repaired and modified after the last pair had been blown to bits by, well, Tony himself.

”JARVIS, enemies”, he commanded the AI, putting on the gloves just to feel a spark of almost childish delight as the circle in each palm started glowing.

”I wouldn't recommend it, Sir. The tests are yet to be completed: the last reading suggested that the synchronisation link is still unstable.”

”Don't worry so much JARVIS, it's bad for your circuits. I'll be fine”, he replied and loosened up some tense muscles. ”Deploy the simbots.”

”Yes, Sir.”

Six blips were heard from a wall, from which six spherical robots about the size of baseballs came to life, hoovered momentarily in the air and then started spreading out in the room. A moment passed while the bots lit up a circle of blue light in their midst, then JARVIS' voice echoed in the room anew.

”Simbots ready, Sir. Shall I give the command?”

Tony jumped twice where he was, drew a deep breath, and nodded firmly.

”Yes.”

At once the six bots shivered in unison, the light circles flashed and suddenly a sharp and scaringly vivid giant spider crawled over the cars and benches in the lab while a snarling, two-headed man-dog came at him from the other side. Both sported a glowing blue circle, indicating their weakest spot.

Tony's fingers danced as he cocked his head to one side.

”That's it, come and get me,” he mumbled under his breath, feeling the familiar tingling of adrenaline under his skin.

King of Hearts — The Losers Jensen/Cougar

"Seven of Hearts."

Pooch groaned and relucantly put the card down. Jensen grinned and winked at him.

"Queen of Clubs"

Cougar silently put a card down without moving a muscle.

"Oh yeah, I'm on a roll!" Jensen looked at his cards and grinned. "Alright! King of Hearts."

No one moved, and Jensen moaned in disappointment — and indignation.

"Come on! One of you has it, because I sure don't."

"Hey, Losers," Clay shouted in the background, making them all look towards him in a hearbeat. "We're heading out."

Without a word they all moved to follow order, but when Pooch gathered the deck Jensen couldn't deny himself the sneakpeek — only just catching the king of hearts disappear from the hand Pooch had had.

Snorting, Jensen elbowed the other man in the side and raised an eyebrow:

"What was that you said once, Pooch? 'The Pooch may lie, the Pooch may steal, but the Pooch never cheats'?"

The other man gave him an unimpressed glare and snorted.

"Those were Cougar's cards."

"Yeah right." Jensen grinned.

The fact that Cougar only gave them a long, level glance at their exchange of words didn't exactly point in his favour, but Jensen was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Kittens — The Losers Jensen/Cougar

Jacob Jensen never had, and never would, deny that he was a major Cougar fan. Cougar was amazing in every sense of the word. Sometimes, Jensen would even think that Cougar was perfect, before he remembered that perfection was, in truth, boring, and Cougar was everything but boring. So perfectly imperfect it was.

Some would say that there were no imperfections about Cougar, of course. Jensen scoffed at their ignorance. Sure, he himself hadn’t found many either, but Jensen blamed that on the fact that he clearly looked at the guy with rose-tinted glasses.

Jensen had once contemplated custom ordering rose-tinted glasses, just so that he could walk around making that kind of commentary and still be taken as the major goof everyone thought he was. Perhaps it would’ve felt better to be able to say things out loud, even if no one would believe him.

Then he remembered whom he’d make the comments about, and abandoned the idea. While Cougar didn’t seem to catch onto things that Jensen left unsaid, he had a frighteningly astute ability to tell when Jensen lied and when he told the truth the moment the words had left his mouth.

Sometimes, the sheer implications of that made Jensen light-headed.

Like that time in Canada, when Jensen lied about having no problems with his assigned room. It had just been an over-night stay planned anyway, and he was well versed in how to stay up around the clock and still be efficient. Not only had Cougar caught the lie: two minutes and eight seconds later, Cougar, gear hoisted casually over his shoulder, stepped into Jensen’s room, and simply stated “My room’s too big. Switch?”. While confused out of his wits, the words instantly made the knot in Jensen’s stomach loosen. At the time he could’ve kissed Cougar out of relief, preventing himself from doing so by throwing out a “Sure, Cougs,” and hurriedly gathering his gear and technics. He left the room as quick as he dared without making it seem as though he fled from it, reminding himself to actually order that perhaps-not-entirely-legal sniper rifle ammo he’d read about the other day for Cougar.

Fini!

[cataclysmic-writer]

What's this?????

ALEXANDER HAMILTON MAKING HIS WAY TO THE RING WITH A STEEL CHAIR!!!

I dare you to write your favourite historical figure into your favourite fictional world

Be creative! Make it silly or tragic; a dramatic reveal or that they've always been there. Set it in the fictional world of another or a favourite of your own. How do they affect this world? How does this world affect them?

Think outside the box! 

If you’re brave enough to post, don’t forget to tag I dare you to write and to indicate whether or not concrit is welcome.

[cataclysmic-writer]

Katastrophie: The Brothers

For the Welcome to Writeblr Feast of Fright event! Day 1: write a character study scene about the protagonist//Day 2: Introduce the story's major relationship(s). Katastrophie is an adult sports romance set among professional wrestlers. Ask to be added to the tag list!

Kas barely recognized his apartment. He tossed his keys to the side where he thought a side table was. It was impossible to tell for sure in the dark. He stumbled over something, catching himself on the wall. He blinked, trying to orient himself as pain pulsed down his side.

He should unpack, start a load of laundry. He’d be back on the road again in a day or two and he really needed to switch out his wardrobe. Instead, he collapsed back onto his mattress, so exhausted that he didn’t even plug his phone in before his eyes closed. Fuck the laundry.

Kas jolted awake to panicked banging on his door. He grabbed his cell phone, but the screen was black—completely dead. Swearing under his breath, Kas edged towards the entryway. The microwave clock blinked at him from the kitchen and his heart crawled into his throat. Barely three AM. He remembered his dad’s advice: nothing good happened after midnight. 

Sophie also insisted that nothing memorable happened before 11.

Another round of banging shook the wall. Kas took a deep breath, steeled his nerves, and opened the door. 

Joey immediately dove into the apartment, wrapping his arms around Kas’s torso tight enough that Kas wondered if he was getting Heimliched. His hair stuck up in manic tufts, somewhere between a lion and a cockatiel. Despite the frigid temperature, he only wore basketball shorts and a baggy hoodie, and Kas shivered as Joey absorbed his heat. 

Joey buried his face in Kas’s shirt. His shoulders rose unevenly and he struggled to get a word out, putting more and more of his weight on Kas, like he couldn’t carry his weight. Kas staggered back to regain balance and immediately settled a hand on his brother’s back, holding him up. “Joey? What’s wrong?” Kas tried to shake the sleep out of his voice, but if Joey heard it, he didn’t seem to care. 

Joey opened his mouth, but a whimper was all he managed to get out and he slammed it shut again, clinging tighter to his brother. Kas’s blood ran cold. Sure, Joey was a quiet, artistic person, but he was still a 16-year-old boy. He didn’t whimper.

Kas’s fingers gripped Joey’s shirt as he pulled his brother away, crouching so they were eye level. Joey turned away. “What happened? Are you hurt?” He scanned Joey’s body for broken bones or cuts, but his baggy clothes hid his body. “Joey, look at me.” Kas grabbed his chin, forcing his brother to return his gaze.

Dried blood crusted Joey’s lip. He habitually chewed on his supplies; had something cut him? Had he torn the skin as an anxious habit? Or—

A darker thought drowned out the others. Who hurt his baby brother?

Rage boiled in his stomach, acid thrashing in his throat and burning his veins. He didn’t realize he’d tightened his grip on Joey until the younger boy winced. Kas dropped his hand, muttering an apology. 

Joey pulled the sleeves of his sweatshirt down to cover his hands and leaned his forehead back against Kas’s chest. “Can I—” He couldn’t finish the sentence, but he didn’t need to. 

Kas wrapped his arms around Joey and led him deeper into the apartment. “Yeah, you can stay here tonight,” Kas said. “Take the bed.”

“Did I wake you up?” It was the first full sentence Joey’d managed since he came in. 

Kas waved a dismissive hand. “Nah. I was doing laundry.”

[cataclysmic-writer]

Introducing: Katastrophie

Welcome to the ring.

Kasper Lynch never planned on professional wrestling. The hours were long, the travel exhausting, and the medical bills expensive. Plus, wrestling promotions could cut his contract at any time. However, his options were limited; the court needed proof of income to even consider his petition for guardianship. Kas escaped the suffocation of his childhood home, but he had no intention of leaving his brother behind. Sophie Erickson always planned on professional wrestling. The daughter of a wrestling legend, Sophie’s last name practically guaranteed a spot as a main-event star—and a shadow of unrealistic expectations. In a family where the ‘hall of fame’ was barely a foyer, she’d do whatever it took to distinguish herself from the men who came before her… even if it meant facing them in the ring.  When a freak accident leaves Kas’s future with Coast-to-Coast Wrestling uncertain, Sophie offers him the chance to elevate his status by turning heel with her, creating the alliance 'Katastrophie.' From make-out sessions in front of a TV audience to intergender matches that don’t pull any punches, the duo quickly settle into their antagonistic gimmicks. Despite the growing fame, no one could anticipate how the in-ring relationship bleeds into their real lives…or the ramifications of Kas’s newfound persona on his already shattered family life. 

Interested in this story? Reply to this post to be notified when graphics, snippets, and major news are posted!

[cataclysmic-writer]

My WIP title is a play on words regarding the main characters' names that comes up in the story; Kas and Sophie, who form a duo called Katastrophie (like catastrophe). It's on brand, and very thematic.

However, any time I post about it, I'm literally begging that people on Tumblr don't think I'm an idiot who can't spell their own novel title.

[cataclysmic-writer]

Just going to self-promo this snippet from my current WIP, Katastrophie, introducing the pivotal bond between the main character, Kas, and his younger brother, Joey.

Katastrophie explores themes of family, ambition, and the price of success through the eyes of Kasper 'Kas' Lynch—a professional wrestler locked in a custody battle over his younger brother.

Ask to be added to the tag list!

I'll also shout out @innocentlymacabre's recent Due North snippet, also featuring some in-ring action. I don't have a type, I don't know what you mean.

Hey guys! My queue is once again empty so I'd love to reblog more of ya'lls writing!

Writeblr has been quite dead lately so to liven it up a bit, feel free to use this as an opportunity to link anyone's writing you think could use a boost too!

[cataclysmic-writer]

Katastrophie aesthetics: Sophie Erickson

"Those four ropes weren’t designed to keep you in the ring, they were designed to keep women out. We had to scratch, and claw, and beg for every opportunity we got, because no one would fight for us."

"People aren't unified by what they love; it's what they hate. So I made you hate me."

Learn about Katastrophie or join the tag list here.

[cataclysmic-writer]

🍁🌙🥣for the autumn asks!

Thank you for the asks! Pardon the minor delay :)

🍁 Maple: Describe your OC’s happy place.

Kas, from Katastrophie, considers his truck his happy place. It's incredibly worn-down and he bought it used from a farmer. It was all he could afford at the time. He isn't a 'car guy,' but to him, the truck represents freedom and self-reliance after years of living in a financially abusive home.

Bonus scene:

Jericho started to respond, but Kas pulled into the arena lot, slamming the brakes hard enough to fling Jericho into the dash. He yelped in surprise. “That’s for not taking your feet off the dash, asshole,” Kas said, slowly pulling into a parking space as his partner groaned. “Come on, we’re here.”

🌙 Moon: Share a song that reminds you of your OC.

*Channing Tatum voice* WHOOI'veBeenwaitinforthis

Kas actually has an entire playlist:

But if I had to pick one song I would choose 'The Wolf,' by Mumford and Sons:

🥣 Soup: What is the one thing that will always cheer your OC up after a stressful day?

Kas is a big family man (his mother not included), so spending time with his loved ones, particularly his younger brother, always puts a smile on his face. His father is a preacher, who lives several states away, and if Kas ever feels like he needs a pep talk from his dad, he'll put on an old sermon.

Thanks for the asks!

Ask to join Katastrophie's playlist

[cataclysmic-writer]

👍 - what (if any) is a good, safe touch for your character?

🖖 - if your character needed to communicate peaceful or helpful intentions to someone else through touch, how would they go about doing that?

✌️ - are there any gestures or touches that your character shares with a friend/team/loved one that are a type of code between them?

Thank you for the asks! what (if any) is a good, safe touch for your character?

In Katastrophie, my adult pro-wrestling sports romance, neither Kas nor Sophie are particularly touch-adverse--it's hard to be picky about personal space when you're rolling around in the ring with your coworkers every week. So, both of them are pretty open to touch/contact!

If your character needed to communicate peaceful or helpful intentions to someone else through touch, how would they go about doing that?

Kas is a former D1 hockey player, and he's built like it too. Since he's a naturally big/imposing figure, he often sinks down to other people's level before offering a hug. He also has the strength and size to pick up just about anyone, so it's quite common to see him carry people around when they're upset. Sophie tends to be more subtle. She'll put a hand on their shoulder or pat their back. Early in the novel, she even gives Kas an unprompted forehead kiss. She knew what she was doing with that.

Are there any gestures or touches that your character shares with a friend/team/loved one that are a type of code between them?

Okay, I love this question for Katastrophie, because in professional wrestling, there are all kinds of hand signals and various touches that wrestlers use to communicate inside the ring. Veteran wrestlers often don't even plan matches out ahead of time, they go in and make it up on the spot, communicating as they go. For the Katastrophie characters, some of these signals and touches definitely make their way outside of the ring as well. For example, in WWE, if a wrestler is legitimately injured in a match, the ref will make an X with their arms, ending the match and signaling medical. Since pro wrestling sometimes involves fake injuries, this gesture is basically like a safe word that shows something seriously went wrong. I could see the characters (not just Kas and Sophie) using that symbol outside of the ring to show that a joke went too far or something bad happened.

Thanks again for the asks!

[cataclysmic-writer]

No one: Absolutely no one: Not a single person: Me: Professional wrestling is among the most physically demanding sports and wrestlers go through tables, ladders, and chairs. Yet in this novel, the wrestling ring represents financial security and achieving a goal. Despite everything the wrestlers go through, it represents safety--

[cataclysmic-writer]

My writing friends when I explain that I'm writing a sports romance set in a pro wrestling company:

[cataclysmic-writer]

🍓🥩🎒 for anyone you like!

Thank you for the asks! I'll answer these for Kas, the protagonist of Katastrophie.

🍓 (strawberry) - Does your oc believe in anything? Are they superstitious? Religious? Atheistic? Has anything in their past made them this way? Kas is actually pretty religious. His father is a protestant preacher, and he was raised on those teachings. He always wears a silver cross necklace, even while wrestling.

An important note here; both Kas and his father practice a much more accepting version of Christianity than we see in current news. In fact, on the novel's first page, we hear a clip from one of his father's sermons emphasizing Matthew 22:39, which is the 'love thy neighbor' passage. As someone with religious trauma myself, I wanted to experiment with a character who experienced a version of Christianity that I felt lived up to its teachings. That said, while religion is a part of his character, the book isn't a religious book.

🎒 (backpack) - What items does your oc usually carry? Do they have a bag or just keep everything in their pockets? Do they carry a lot or a little?

Professional wrestlers are on the road for almost 2/3s of the year. Many live out of a suitcase for weeks at a time, and Kas is no different. Since they usually only spend a night or two in one place, Kas would bring his travel bag along wherever he goes. In addition to typical travel packing, he'd always have at least one pair of ring attire and athletic clothes stashed in his truck. Regarding how much he carries, for someone on the road so much, Kas is a remarkably light traveler.

🥩 (steak) - Does your oc have any coping mechanisms? Healthy or unhealthy?

Kas always sought out physical exercise as a form of escapism or comfort. He was the kind of high-schooler who played a sport each season, and when he graduated, he even became a D-1 athlete. While pro wrestling had never crossed his mind, it did provide him a chance to continue moving and challenging his body—although tables, ladders, and chairs weren't quite the challenge he had in mind.

Thanks again!