CATASCHISM: independent, private, selective rp blog currently headlining MOON KNIGHT from MARVEL COMICS. heavily biased towards personal headcanons. dni if you’re under 18. by perce, 25, she/her only.
heavily affiliated with users strengthinus, absolventiia, ironwoven / sparedson
huge fans of and mains with users tridentide (sideblog)
THE MOD IS MOSTLY ACTIVE ON MY PERSONAL BLOG. IT WAS NICE WRITING WITH YOU ALL. AND IF I DON'T SEE YOU, GOOD AFTERNOON, GOOD EVENING, AND GOOD NIGHT !
LINKS.Muse list.
Meta / hc post masterlist. (tbd)
Exclusive dynamics / ships / bonds list.
Activity fluctuation disclaimer.
RULES. below the cut.
DISCLAIMERS this blog contains dark themes inherent in the fandoms I write for. such as incest, major character death, eating disorders & severe trauma / mental illness. while it is tagged accordingly, you will see such subjects present. curate your online space accordingly. my tagging style is “trigger /” not fear. I may double up (such as both “vomit /” and “emet /”) but it will at least always be tagged as the subject. spiders, drowning, etcetera.
I also hardblock people who mention incest and such topics being in their DNI even if they follow me first. If you want to avoid this but still have this DNI, reach out to me prior to following. I don’t think I’m special, but I don’t take chances on strangers, either.
This blog is additionally not friendly to blind Tumblr users, or those who use screenreaders. Due to the nature of the stylized formatting, my writing is pretty much unreadable to blind Tumblr users and I apologize for the inconvenience. I don’t use main tags for a reason when I post writing or headcanons.
DRAMA this blog does not support callouts or drama unless we have rapport & I know you’re an individual with reliable sources and proof about credible abusers. I do not want to see it just anybody’s callout. I don’t believe the average tumblr user knows what a callout should be about. as such, I ask that you tag “callout tw,” or some variation (whatever your style is.)
REPLIES / ACTIVITY I am low activity on a good day. on most days, I’ll say I’ll write and I don’t. I do send in memes, like opens, plotting calls, shipping calls etc. I will interact with you, but my writing & therefore replies are slow. I am in hard coursework at college. I do my best. discord is open to mutuals.
I also don’t typically do starter calls. I typically forget and that’s just sad for everyone.
FOLLOWING I am looking to foster a manageable community for my blog. that is to say, I don’t like having more than 80 followers. I may do unannounced purges. this is not anything against you and you may refollow if you want. I will only hardblock in these purges if that’s stated to be preferred in your rules. I will only purge partners I don’t interact with and who aren’t on my mains or affiliate list.
MUSES I plan to make this blog’s muse list extremely large, so I can play whoever I want with whatever partner I want. I do not care about making this blog look good to others, or to fit a certain look. If you’re looking for a blog that has consistent tagging and characters, this is not the one for you. I will be clear: This blog is for me and my friends only.
DUPES I don’t have dupe anxiety for any of my muses. if I roleplay someone that you have dupe anxiety with, let me know. I can come up with a specific tag for you so that I don’t trigger your anxiety, etc. I want us to all have a good time.
DNI If you interact with vinhlang, their fiance or the rest of their posse; if you interact with fireburial (also known as Myers / Val, used to be dermapyre) in any capacity. I consider these individuals to be genuinely malicious and harmful for my community. I steer clear of them and suggest you do as well.
Viewing copy of the Myers callout document. | Download link.
Vinhlang, fiance & co callout post.
*sends u msgs from all of my alt accounts years after being found out as a serial abuser* how dare u continue to have me on ur dni. i mean not me i'm a totally different person obviously how dare u continue to have someone else on ur dni. don't pay attention to all of my gfx or name shit being the same im definitely not me. i mean that other person i am not that other person. what do you mean my fake moustache is falling off
actually i'm so not me because i messaged you on 3 different accounts and sent an anon, despite it being the same day all within five hours of each other, so you can really really tell it's not me and it's probably just a vent gc and not just like my brain being mad at it all of a sudden. and also i'm really into korean fcs and i have the same aesthetic across blogs, but don't worry about hthat either. it's literally not myers. please please please please it's not myers i beg of you remove it from your dni. also i know all of my problems. have i mentioned i'm not myers?
this is going to be a short and sweet post, but i've started working on some commissions for the rpc, specifically blog overhauls for $15 ( blog overhauls include : a promo, a post divider, header, pinned post, & dash icon ), and promos for $8.
some examples of my work are underneath the read more.
if you'd like to commission me, here's the link for my ko - fi ! if you commission me, please message me here on tumblr or on discord <3 sometimes my notifs don't go through.
Making a note here that I’ll then put this post on my pinned post as a disclaimer, but it feels impertinent not to mention that I seem to collect an entire host of mental disorders, including some that affect what I’m interested in. I’ll be super excited about rp tumblr and then the next couple of days or weeks or months* completely forget about it for other interests or my personal blogs. This is nothing against anyone here, and I totally understand if anyone unfollows. I will just refollow old mutuals to say “hello, I’m back!”
This behavior is entirely due to my own mental health and the fact that I have a lot going on in my irl life at all times. I understand this may be frustrating for others, hence my making this disclaimer, but I also won’t apologize since… I can’t help it. Just so everyone knows ! It’s up to my mutuals how you decide to go forward knowing that I am like this, lol.
*I also seem to collect disorders that affect my perception of time, so the passage of time is really unclear. It’s really hard for me to estimate how long these fluctuations last for unless I am consistently checking my last post date and the time when I’m on again. Sometimes I think it’ll have been years since I last posted and it’ll be a month, and vice versa.
@driftcd demanded: Stop being so modest about your achievements! | prompt.
Fifty-four was a bad year for the both of them and fifty-five isn’t looking any better.
Esra’s first year mentoring after he’d won, and the year that Kade’s family, for the most part, got swept out from underneath him. He’s never asked—he doesn’t want to ask—why sometimes there’s a baby’s cry on the winds between their houses in the Four Village. ❛ What achievements? ❜ Esra hisses on the way to the Capitol. He draws his knees tight to his chest, having laid his white suit jacket on the floor, making him look sweaty and overdressed now that it’s gone.
❛ You don’t have any, and I don’t, either. We won a fucked up reality show—and good! Good! Now we’re alive, and we have to live with ourselves. I can’t even—my brother doesn’t wanna talk to me—your sister is dead! What modesty is there to have? And we just have to watch ‘em be thrown into a tub to be butchered. How do you even pretend to feel good about yourself? You make me sick. ❜
Curling into his knees, he squeezes his face at a hard and crooked angle. He covers his ears with his hands, pressing his heels to his ear canals. ❛ I make myself sick. I don’t want to talk to you. ❜
@cataschism sent in : "Who did this to you?" Ezz to his little finnick <3
the drugs have not been friendly tonight. they rarely are, but especially tonight, finnick feels himself growing sick. he doesn't recognize what esra is asking as his head spins the moment his mentor helps him to his feet ; he empties his stomach into a potted plant. finnick is seventeen. he's dizzy, and he's nauseous, and he wipes at his mouth. seventeen. one more year ! the man with the bright neon blue hair had said, when he gave him a champagne flute.
esra is staring at him, and is expecting a response. his white suit is still immaculate, this late into the night. no wrinkle in sight. impressive. " what ? " he asks. his throat is scratchy, and it burns, and there doesn't seem to be fresh air anywhere. " no one. i mean, i guess. " he feels crowded -- impossibly so. finnick runs a hand down his face. " is there something you want or . . ? " sorry, ezz. sorry, sorry, sorry. the drugs make him irritable, and angry, and also somewhat impatient.
" look, just back off ! " esra hasn't said anything, or even stepped closer. finnick still raves as if he's had. the alcohol goes straight to the teenager's head. what was in that champagne ? " god, do you have to be around me all the time ? you mental fucking lunatic. " oh, he'll regret that come tomorrow. but for now, finnick is absolutely buzzing. " the games are over ! congrats to me ! do i get to be fucking alone, ever ? " finnick gets sick, but holds it in, instead leaning over the balcony with a huff. the air even tastes polluted, up here. how is that possible ? esra is still here. finnick can feel him, in the same way he can feel mags or lucas. victors have a sense for each other, didn't you know ?
Esra’s smile is vicious &. blood-soaked. It’s lukewarm. It’s barely even a grin, more of a smirk; barely more than a line, it’s just the edges. Truth be told, a secret between the two of them, that’s how his face rests now, designed from the internal thread &. cords when they had him in the hospital, curled up into a ball and non-verbal for over a week.
When Finnick stumbles beyond him to the balcony, alcohol-stricken and delusional, Esra assumes parade rest where he lingers. He was never a soldier boy in his youth, but his therapist recommended him the persona. “sometimes it’s easier to be a person you’ve never been than a half-person you’ve always been, esra.” ha, owch. Sometimes she wounded him.
Esra doesn’t get a word in edge-wise before Finnick is howling at him; it’s not even him, really, there’s something in these designer drugs in the Capitol that make you into a mutt. It’s a reason he plays the sober card, pretending that his delinquency made him fail to possess consistent lovers, and if that fails, then he talks about his games, hoping that he’ll lose people’s interest in those slick stories. It just reminds me about how I felt, back then. You ever felt crazy? You wanna feel crazy? I can make you crazy, too.
❛ What do you want me to say, guppy? ❜ Esra asks. There is no thoughtful consideration left to put in his tone, but he tries it anyway. Merely soft, but not gentle, if there’s ever been a difference to Esra and Finnick. ❛ I don’t want you to take a swan dive. Is that so bad? ❜
Esra is crazy. The only non-fragmented parts left are Esra’s crazy parts, the parts that could remain and only happened after his Programming. And he’s sure he had them before as a symptom of his existence, but he doesn’t remember the beginning signs.
There’s only Esra now, leaving neon stains wherever he goes.
His smile grows, pinched by nerves. ❛ I’ll stop you if you try. Sorry. Really, I am. I just can’t seem to let you die. ❜
THE GREEN BROTHERS died in ways different from each other, and yet the same. some say they may have deserved it.
KING AEGON died by poison, PRINCE AURANE died by water, and PRINCE AEMOND died by the sword. they will be remembered in history as some of the worst of house targaryen. (psd.)
i go bed now after writing a bunch (and taking my adderall at 11am was a mistake) but this is esra’s playlist for anypony interested! lucas doesn’t have his own playlist (yet) but i often listen to another oc’s playlist—a modern fuckboi oc i never talk about—when i write him. both of these boys are very specialest to me and i appreciate everyone’s interest and love for them 🩷
@tridentide demanded: tell me why you’re really here. | prompt.
Lucas is forty-five now.
Isn’t that strange, all things considered? Back before the second Quarter Quell, when he was still the youngest Victor by several years, Lucas was the top of the world, the cream of the crop. Merely him &. his legion of PKs who thought him useful. youthful. lithe.
❛ Peeta said you could use a friend right now, Finnick. And I’m just coming to offer that. You talk a lot about parties, right? I was involved in lots of parties, back before the rebellion, ❜ Lucas sits softly on the chair next to Finnick’s hospital bed. His graying hairs give away his true age, unburdened by his gently aging face, and the only wrinkles being where he smiles.
Like Finnick, Lucas never lost his looks over the years; the pinnacle of every Peacekeepers’ attention never relied on cosmetic surgeries to maintain his appearance / had the PKs found out, they would’ve called him a slug. as they had many others.
❛ It’s easy to miss, right? The feasts, the attention. To be honest with you, Finnick, there was a Peacekeeper who stayed with me in my house in the Village for many years. He, obviously, is not here. But I miss him quite dearly. The rebellion… it’s complicated. Messy. I.. I just want to let you know you have a friend, despite the chaos. ❜
@strengthinus asked politely: can you teach me how to do that? | prompt.
One of the better tributes, over the years. At least one of the luckier ones, he thinks. Eighteen is just when you’re curbing the expectation that you’ll inevitably die gruesomely one day while everyone you’ve ever known watches you struggle pointlessly, and then the cyclical nature of the games strikes you when you least expect it. It’s fun like that. It’s depressing like that.
Eighteen, though? You’re strong enough to beat half the competitors, just from the sheer luck of being alive longer.
❛ Hey, bitch, ❜ Esra says with a light grin on his face. ❛ That’s my whole job, right? It’s not like I was gonna get outta my Games without learning some tricks, eh? Best you have some up your sleeve, too. ❜
Esra’s booth contains dummies &. sharpening tools &. wood. It’s unlikely you’ll be in an arena without firewood. So he beckons Annie to sit, and teaches her the fastest way to carve wood, and how to pick out the best rocks for the task without relying on clipping your finger. ❛ Dying to an infection on your finger just because you can’t get access to antibiotics is gonna be pretty shit, so you never want to just hope you don’t clip your finger on a sharp rock. Always play for your life, girl, ❜ Esra explains, forcing the wood to a point, carving off chunks until it only reveals an edge and a blade. He hands over the new knife.
❛ Now show me where you hit their body to kill someone fast and dirty if they catch you. ❜
Jesus, Esra pitied Annie. There’s the losers left behind in the Victory Tours like Esra—rotten to the core and only half that crazy—and then there’s the Annies, the Victors who never got the good life even before their shock collars got whipped up to one hundred. He can’t imagine Snow ever used her like Snow ever used him—some Victors you leave alone, even when you’re a sadistic bastard.
Esra crouches down next to her, trying to get to eye-level, where she’s curled up by the wall. ❛ Annie, you’re always one crazy bitch, but you have got to pull yourself together, now. Who is listening? ❜
If she has a lick of sense left, she’ll be able to understand that Snow is always watching. That they have microphones shoved up their butts and trackers to the side of their necks, implanted during their Games to always be found and never taken out. If she says Snow, and is that upset, well... maybe Esra will reconsider leaving Finnick to his devices with her. What a mess.
Showing his hand clearly, and then using it to tuck her hair behind her ear so he can see her face, he asks again: ❛ Who’s watching us, Annie girl? You got a scent? ❜
starter call? and also implied plotting call if i can’t think of something?
(remember my muse list is huge, so it’s kinda vibes based and what my friends want since the rpc is my sandbox and my barbies are endless—i’ll just choose something fun if you don’t want to pick in the replies)
@tridentide whispered: stop pretending like you care. | prompt.
God, he’s tiny. He’s tiny and this is miserable and Esra has felt worse many years in his life prior to this, and he will feel worse after this when this little shrimp inevitably dies and becomes another name in a list, but this is still bad. It’s bad and Esra doesn’t have any room left in his heart to be apologetic over how much worse this shrimp’s life will multiply in awfulness even more than Esra can believe. At least Esra lived so his life can suck, but Finnick’s will end in a glorious blaze of intestines and sobbing children.
❛ You’re right, bottomfeeder, I don’t really care, ❜ Esra’s tone is flat, but not from his lack of care about Finnick, but a sharply &. carefully carved out hollowness that he’s removed for both of their sakes. A mentor who cries over you is a mentor who’s not useful at all; Mags is better at pretending that she’s everyone’s mother, but Esra’s head still jolts with fresh electricity at night—leaving him disoriented and his throat dry, like back in the hospital. ❛ But I have to try. Do you understand that, in your little shrimpy brain? I don’t care. I can’t care. You think, after twelve years of Games, I can care? I’d be so disabled by my empathy at that point I wouldn’t even be a person. No, Finnick, I don’t care, because you’re not a person, you’re an object for the Capitol. So will you listen to me if I say that and confirm your fears? ❜
Esra exhales through his nose. He imagines scrubbing furiously at Finnick’s eyes, trying to clear them of childhood delusion. He’s come from a home of a nice family, some good meals in Four, a gentle-comparatively life. And now he’s getting coached by a man who cleaved his childhood friend’s face down lengthwise.
Not everyone gets happy endings.
❛ But I want to see you back home. Do you understand? I want you to come back to the Victor’s Village and lie down on the softest bed you’ve ever felt in your life, and not worry about having to make due on an insane quota of seafood for the Capitol per month and not have to buy a Tesseract to get rice. I want you back here, in front of me and Mags, and I want you in one piece. I want you home, my little Finnick. I want you back home. ❜
. . . but what no trainer could claim to have given him was his extraordinary beauty. tall, athletic, with golden skin and bronze-colored hair and those incredible eyes.
#tridentide : finnick odair of the hunger games franchise. book and headcanon - based. a sideblog written by ashe. 21 + / heavy tws apply.
