𝑭𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻 𝑳𝑰'𝑳 𝑾𝑶𝑳𝑭

𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒕 & 𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒐𝒄

[kn0ckout]

#KN0CKOUT. an independent, highly selective, && exclusive original character penned by tally (he/it, 25). minors dni. heavily based in and inspired by dc / marvel and similar heroic settings.

a study in what happens when the past comes back to bite you; the cost of self-control; how much someone can take before they're broken down and become a personal apocalypse.

carrd | memes | additional lore.

[bringruin]

𝐢 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧, 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞…

#BRINGRUIN. an original character inspired by tokusotsu and shonen anime with heavy focus on themes of emotional intelligence, how capitalism corrupts, and the necessity of feeling. as adored by tally (he/it, 25).

𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 !!

[gloomglimmer]

›       TENSION   LINER   PROMPTS     

"I   dare   you   to   try."

"Do   you   always   get   close?"

"You’re   pushing   my   limits."

"Stop   looking   at   me   like   that."

"I’m   losing   control   here."

"You   have   no   idea,   do   you?"

"I   can’t   resist   you   anymore."

"Stay   back,   or   don’t."

"I   know   what   you   want."

"This   is   getting   dangerous   now."

"You’re   too   tempting   for   me."

"I   shouldn’t   want   this,   but…"

"I   don’t   play   fair,   remember?"

"Careful,   you’re   testing   me."

"You’re   just   making   it   worse."

"You’re   too   close   for   comfort."

"Do   you   always   push   buttons?"

"Stop   before   I   kiss   you."

"You’re   making   it   too   hard."

"I   can’t   stop   thinking   about   you."

"I   want   you   too   much."

"You   know   exactly   what   you’re   doing."

"I’m   not   playing   games   here."

"You’ve   crossed   the   line   now."

"Keep   pushing,   and   you’ll   regret   it."

"This   is   dangerous,   isn’t   it?"

"I’m   trying   not   to   care."

"Don’t   make   me   regret   this."

"You’re   playing   with   fire."

"You   don’t   know   what’s   coming."

"I   shouldn’t   be   this   close."

"We’re   getting   dangerously   close   now."

"I   can   feel   the   heat."

"Don’t   test   me   right   now."

"I   want   you   too   badly."

"Don’t   make   me   chase   you."

"You’re   distracting   me,   you   know."

"I   won’t   fall   for   this."

"I   want   you,   but…"

"What   do   you   want   from   me?"

"I’ll   never   give   in."

"I’m   trying   not   to   care."

"You’re   playing   with   my   patience."

"Don’t   make   this   harder,   please."

"I   can’t   stop   this   feeling."

"I’m   already   in   too   deep."

"You   won’t   walk   away   unscathed."

"You’re   walking   a   fine   line."

"I’m   trying   to   stay   calm."

"What   are   you   doing   to   me?"

[kn0ckout]

𝑰 𝑩𝑬𝑨𝑻 𝑻𝑯𝑨𝑻 𝑩𝑰𝑻𝑪𝑯 𝑻𝑶 𝑫𝑬𝑨𝑻𝑯 𝑱-𝑲!! 𝑰 𝑻𝑨𝑲𝑬 𝑴𝒀 𝑴𝑬𝑫𝑺!

independent && selective original vigilante character, heavily influenced by marvel and dc comics. penned by tally (25, he/it).

a study in: being your own apocalypse ; the endless optimism held by a sacrificial lamb; why ancient evils suck, actually.

[gotham1ght]

A 'normal life' was never in the cards for Bruce. No matter how hard he tried to put his own traumatic past behind him (first with the death of his bio parents, then the death of his adoptive parents), no matter how many times he tried to let the police do their jobs, no matter how many times he told himself he wasn't single handedly responsible for fixing Gotham, he couldn't let his guilt go. So now he works tirelessly, day in night, to make the city a better place. It's a thankless job, especially since a good portion of the city's population doesn't want to change but he pursues positive change nevertheless.

Night is never quiet in Gotham. Sirens serve as a grim lullaby, with the occasional screech of tire and thunk of cars colliding in a high speed chase serving as a wake up call from said lullaby. The city is dirty, gritty.... Sick and in need of help... Some people can learn from their mistakes through a little encouragement and help. Some only ever seem to learn the hard way, and through being forced to face the consequences of their poor choices. Batman's job is to supervise the city's change in any and all ways possible. Still, he can't be everywhere at once. Even with his many cameras and radio feeds he's still playing catch up. It's because he's running a race he will never truly ever be able to win that it takes him a good 30 minutes to find the stranger.

The stranger is clearly injured, shards of glass glistening in his foot and arm twisted in a painful, if not also broken angle. He sees the stranger before they see him, navigating the shadows of the large building with ease. Leaping from one of the rooftop beams, he lands before the stranger in a flutter of cape, the shadow that follows him making a distinct bat shape as he lands. "What happened here?" he asks the stranger, white lensed gaze ever wandering, using the built in cameras to analyze and run scans all the while. "How long have you been injured?"

[kn0ckout]

— 𖦹 SEE,   HE   HAS   DEALT   with   fear   before.   jay   isn’t   a   stranger   to   it;   that   sinking   feeling   in   his   gut   may   as   well   be   one   of   his   oldest   companions.   be   it   the   worry   produced   by   his   body   moving   on   its   own   or   by   sudden   fires   leaping   to   into   existence   around   him,   there’s   never   been   a   time   where   he   wasn’t   a   little   scared.   hell,   he   gets   scared   whenever   he   gets   into   a   real   fight.   the   only   difference   is,   when   he   gets   into   a   fight   nowadays,   he   has   a   reason   to   push   past   that   terror   &&   keep   going.   turns   out,   staving   off   the   apocalypse   is   one HELL of   a   motivator.    all   of   that   doesn’t   just   go   out   the   window   when   he   sees   the   goddamn   spectre   of   gotham,   oh   no.   it   takes   off   in   a   sprint   &&   jumps   out   the   window   head   first   right   as   jay   starts   to   stand   up   proper.    jay   startles.   he   really   wishes   he   didn’t,   but   instinct   hits   as   soon   as   the   shadow   lands   in   front   of   him,   &&   he   jumps   like   a   cat   that   just   heard   a   car   horn   for   the   first   time.   the   glass   shards   in   his   foot   dig   in   a   bit   deeper,   &&   yikes,   okay,   that’s   going   to   hurt   like   a   bitch   later.   later   being   now.   ow.    he   hisses   out   a   handful   of   curses,   rebalancing   himself   on   his   better   foot.   it   takes   a   second   for   the   shadow’s   words   to   actually   register   to   him.   when   they   do,   he   glances   at   his   royally   screwed   up   arm,   then   back   to   the   aforementioned   sleep   paralysis   demon.    ❛   a   lot,   ❜   jay   answers   plainly.      ❛   a   lot   happened.   i   think   i   beat   up   a   gang.   ❜   i   is   a   strong   word   to   use   there.   the   other   guy   must’ve   done   most   of   the   heavy   lifting.   jay,   per   usual,   was   more   of   a   car   in   the   situation;   his   body   is   the   vehicle   the   old   bastard   rams   into   the   nearest   obstacle,   uncaring   for   if   he   sees   the   aftermath   or   not.    he   rolls   his   shoulder,   grabs   a   hold   of   his   injured   limb,   &&   jostles   it.   yep.   hurts. ❛   don’t,   uh,   don’t   worry   about   the   injuries   &&   stuff.   it’ll   be   gone   in   a   minute.   ❜   doesn’t   change   the   fact   that   it   hurts   like   a   rat   bastard   right   now   but,   sure,   you   know   what,   it’ll   be   gone   in   a   minute.   jay   takes   a   breath,   swallows   the   growing   lump   in   his   throat,   &&   slides   his   good   hand   into   his   jean   pockets.    ❛   as   for   how   long,   uh…   hm.   ❜   he   thinks   for   a   second.   ❛   yeah,   not   sure   about   that.   i   think   i   got   in   here   about   seven,   &&   then   i   got   hit   with   a   brick   or   something,   and…   yeah…   ❜   his   lips   purse   into   a   thin   &&     tight   line   then,   quickly,   he   adds   -   ❛   i   know   all   of   this   sounds   shady   as   shit,   but   i   swear,   i’m   a   good   guy.   i’m   not   just   beating   up   guys   for   the   fun   of   it.   ❜   this   time.   

[kn0ckout]

#KN0CKOUT — a boxer with the soul of his long-dead apocalypse-yearning ancestor stitched into his own; a time bomb constantly ticking down, down, down. an independent, exclusive, && highly selective vigilante oc inspired by dc comics and marvel. as adored by theo (he/him, 24). minors dni.

ׂ╰┈➤ a study in: pushing the limits of fate ;; the simultaneous want for and fear of a self-induced apocalypse ;; what happens when our demons are left unattended.

[troyfallen]

— 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙞𝙩 𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙤𝙤 𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢.

independent & highly selective achilles from greek mythos. portrayal informed & inspired by the achilleid, the iliad, and the odyssey ( among others ). as written and adored by theo. (he/him, 24). left image credit.

a study of: the great rage of grief / the inescapable divine / the burden of prophecy & what becomes of us when the most prized corpse is that of the bettered self.

[kn0ckout]

— 𖦹 ❛   𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄,   my   point   here   is,   things   could   always   be   worse.   ❜   he   holds   his   hands   out,   their   faces   to   the   sky,   as   if   to   let   the   sun   see   the   marvel   that   is   his   ruined   palms   for   the   first   time   today.   his   skin   is   marbled   sickly   purple   &&   faded   yellows;   gashes   run   along   his   life-lines,   cutting   a   few   of   them   short.   he   wrings   them   out,   then   stuffs   them   back   into   his   hoodie’s   central   pocket. ❛   could   have   a   fucked   up   demon   in   your   ribs,   y’know   ??   ❜  

[mcflymemes]

AS SAID BY THE WINTER SOLDIER IN MARVEL RIVALS *  adjust as necessary

we're done here.

you don't look a day older than the last time i saw you, [name].

let's just enjoy this moment... before it's gone.

it was a long time ago. we're both here now.

we're not the same as we used to be.

[name], we have to save the world.

trust me, you don't want to find out.

sorry. can't let feelings get in the way.

a shame it had to end this way, [name].

i always come back.

wish i could have saved you like you saved me.

i love watching you work, [name].

i could learn a few things from you.

that was brutal.

i'm a sitting duck.

okay, this night is getting a bit too long for my tastes.

didn't think i'd be back here so soon, but here we go.

glad i'm not stuck in one of those tubes anymore.

i'm not anyone's sidekick. what i do is best done alone.

i've done unspeakable things. i hope it's not too late to set them right.

i was rebuilt to be a weapon, but now i'm the one who pulls the trigger.

reporting for duty.

as long as there's still something worth fighting for, i'll be on the front lines.

weapons keep getting better, but it's still the person behind them that matters most.

my mission isn't over yet.

you thought i was gone for good?

time has claimed a lot of good soldiers. i won't let it take any more.

if i have it my way, i'm never going back in one of those again.

guys like this make it hard for me to get my job done.

this is where we part ways.

you think fast, [name], but i act faster.

i never really liked you anyway.

that had to hurt.

we make a good team.

who's next?

no one stands between me and my mission.

you can't go out this way.

what have we here? a sniper?

wish i had a gun like that.

go back to whatever cave you crawled out of.

we're in over our heads.

you can find our enemies here.

what can i do for you?

don't you dare let that thing through.

if we're gonna do this, it needs to be now.

i lived through it once. i'd rather not do it again.

i said i owe you one.

what the hell happened to the city?

it's from the future.

suddenly i'm feeling pretty darn good.

easy, fella, i didn't mean any harm.

don't bite, okay?

i think something may have gotten lost in translation.

i've been poked and prodded enough for ten lifetimes.

i seem to recall that you used to be on our side.

this'll be just like the old days.

stay on guard.

i appreciate the offer, but i'm not looking to add anyone else to the guest list.

now we're talking! right this way.

i'm kind of hoping the volcano erupts.

my performance record as an assassin shouldn't make me anyone's role model.

keep your cool. we're the good guys.

do you have a plan to stop him?

[sunofel]

@kn0ckout asked: "the risk i took was calculated, but man, am i bad at math . . . " | 𝐪𝐮𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐨 ⋆ ˚ ༘♡

the  smile  that  fights  its  way  to  clark's  lips  is  a  soft  one  ;  one  that  understands  the  sentiment  all  too  well.  be  it  for  the  greater  good  or  for  selfish  reasons  (  because  despite  being  superman,  clark  was,  at  his  core,  still  clark  ),  he  understood  how  taking  risks  could  be.  they  didn't  always  work  out  and  sometimes  they  could  be  used  to  learn  for  next  time.

thankfully,  jason  isn't  too  hurt  this  time  around.

"now  you  know  how  to  adjust  your  math  next  time,"  clark  offers,  holding  out  pain  killers  and  some  water.  "what  were  you  even  trying  to  do?"  he  asks,  looking  over  at  the  training  equipment.  "if  you  wanted  to  get  out  of  your  interview,  you  could  have  just  called."  a  playful  jest,  hoping  to  lighten  the  mood  as  he  takes  a  seat  beside  the  boxer.  hand  rises  to  adjust  the  glasses  that  slide  down  the  bridge  of  his  nose  and  he  clears  his  throat.  "are  you  sure  you  don't  want  me  to  call  someone?  that  fall  looked  like  it  hurt."

[kn0ckout]

— 𖦹 𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐊𝐒 &&   bad   math   make   up   his   being.   evil   looks   upon   him   -   bruised   &&   bludgeoned,   held   together   by   stitches   &&   energy   drinks   -   &&   snorts   in   his   face,   as   does   the   thing   buried   in   his   chest.   that   UNWANTED   PASSENGER   may   not   have   had   anything   directly   to   do   with   the   most   recent   collection   of   injuries,   but   to   say   that   he   is   completely   without   blame   is   a   outright   lie:   that   rat   bastard   pulled   on   chaos   mid-collapse,   tearing   what   should   have   been   a   spell   for   a   soft   landing   right   from   jay’s   grip.    in   other   words,   the   old   geezer   in   his   chest   tripped   him   up   just   in   time   to   give   jay   a   new   broken   nose   (   &&   just   when   the   last   fracture   had   started   to   heal,   too   )   while   toying   with   chaos   which,   like   a   rubberband,   snapped   back   against   him.   to   say   that   it   had   hurt   like   a   bitch   is   an   understatement.    in   the   wake   of   his   crime,   the   asshole   is   silent   -   unlike   clark. jay’s   lips   purse   into   a   thin   &&   tight   line.   he   rubs   the   bridge   of   his   nose,   the   bleeding   having   long   since   stopped,   &&   cracks   a   wry   smile.he   takes   the   painkillers   &&   offered   water,   downing   both   in   quick   succession.   he’s   got   plenty   of   practice   with   it   as   of   late. ❛   i   wasn’t   trying   to   get   out   of   the   interview,   ❜   jay   begins.   his   free   hand   rubs   the   back   of   his   neck,   then   cards   up   through   messy   raven   hair.   ❛   i   was   just…   practicing   a   new   jab   &&   fell   out   of   the   ring.   ❜   sure.   that’s   definitely   likely.   totally   not   a   lie.    he’s   quick   to   add,   ❛   i’m   still   down   for   the   whole…   y’know,   official   twenty   questions   thing.   not   used   to   getting   the   mic   on   me,   honestly   -   most   of   the   time,   the   other   guys   get   it.   ❜   mostly   to   sing   about   their   losses,   to   paint   themselves   as   an   underdog   unfairly   mauled   by   the   rabid   maniac   in   the   ring.   he   can’t   blame   them.                                    

[sunofel]

&  despite  not  knowing  what  to  do,  i  put  one  foot  in  front  of  the  other  &  i  try  to  make  the  best  choices  that  i  can.

an  independent  &  selective  clark  kent  /  superman  of  dc,  pulling  influence  from  smallville  &  superman  2025.  crossover,  original  character,  &  duplicate  friendly.  give  this  a  ♡  or  a  ↺  if  you're  interested  in  writing  together.  as  saved  by  gray  ;  21+.  minors  dni.  PLEASE  read  rules  before  following.  carrd. ©

[milkmemes]

They're dead because of you

[kn0ckout]

— 𖦹 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓   the   most   embarrassing   thing   he’s   ever   done.   let’s   get   that   out   the   way   right   here   &&   now:   fighting   sleep   on   a   bench   is   not   the   most   embarrassing   thing   he’s   done   by   a   longshot.   that   honor   goes   to   the   fact   that   he   once…   well,   okay,   no   need   to   go   into   detail   with   it,   actually.   he   doesn’t   want   to   remember   it.   he   wants   to   forget   it,   in   fact.   he   will   forget   it.he   will   not   forget   this,   though. the   bench   isn’t   comfortable.   it’s   anything   but   comfortable,   actually.   it   actively   irks   him   to   lay   on   it,   &&   that’s   exactly   why   he’s   chosen   it:   he   cannot   afford   to   fall   asleep   here.   with   the   few   funds   he   has   left,   he’s   acquired   a   board   &&   a   marker,   &&   scrawled   on   a   sign   just   to   the   left   of   his   claimed   bench   in   large   letters:   ‘WILL   PAY   TO   KEEP   ME   AWAKE.   DON’T   ASK.’ even   if   someone   misses   the   sign,   people   watching   is   still   a   way   to   keep   his   mind   occupied.   the   past   few   days   have   not   been   kind   to   him:   lost   boxing   matches   means   a   lost   place   to   sleep,   unable   to   keep   up   with   the   money   due   per-night   at   the   local   motel.   any   available   funds,   then,   have   instead   gone   to   energy   drinks   &&   cheap   combo   meals   to   keep   himself   up   &&   moving. the   next   match   is   in   a   few   days   so,   if   nothing   else,   he   can   definitely   last   that   long   without   blowing   up.   he   just   has   to   stay   awake,   that’s   all.jay   yawns   and,   without   thinking,   calls   to   the   first   person   who   crosses   his   field   of   vision   when   it   recovers   from   a   brief   stint   in   kaleidoscopic   hell:    ❛ hey, you busy ?? ❜

@gamenu // starter call

[kn0ckout]

— 𖦹 𝐈𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓   a   common   occurrence   for   him   to   receive   memories   from   his   unwanted   passenger.   more   often   than   not,   in   fact,   the   other   outright   refuses   to   indulge   the   once-normal   mortal   with   knowledge   of   his   past.   the   thing   within   him   is   an   entire   mystery;   even   its   name   alludes   jay,   with   unwanted   passenger   becoming   more   of   a   calling   card   than   a   title   at   this   point   (   alongside,   of   course,   various   expected   insults   ). for   this   reason,   his   surprise   is   justified   when   nostalgia   hits   him   amid   his   walk.   a   flicker   of   fur,   of   something   large   as   he   goes   from   place   to   place   -   &&   the   image   appears,   a   great   beast   that   sits   somewhere   between   bear   &&   hound,   three   eyes   a   glinting.   far   from   the   company   of   sane   men,   &&   strolling   deep   in   territory   occupied   by   those   who   seek   wealth   &&   fame   by   other   means,   jay   finds   himself   perplexed.    he   comes   to   a   stop,   oblivious   to   any   who   may   be   following   or   alert   to   his   presence   (   such   is   not   difficult   to   note:   he   is,   after   all,   a   bomb   made   man   ),   &&     clicks   his   tongue.   in   what   he   perceives   to   be   isolation,   he   tries   to   seek   more   information   within   his   mind.   tries   to   plunge   his   consciousness   into   the   other’s   to   wretch   out   more   details.    this   gives   him   a   migraine   &&   a   mini-heart   attack,   &&   he   wisely   decides   to   stop.    still,   he’s   alert   now.   more   than   he   was   before,   if   nothing   else.   granted,   a   thorough   lack   of   sleep   also   makes   him   paranoid   in   the   moment. perhaps   this   is   why   he   regards   the   world   with   a   renewed   suspicion   &&   speaks   aloud,   ❛   i   know   you’re   there   ❜   as   a   gambit.   the   spitting   image   of   the   devil   calls   out   to   the   shadows   as   if   he   truly   knows   them   !!   the   confidence   of   an   old   soul   on   proud   display   -   and,   to   the   particularly   keen,   entirely   false.   

@deathleads // starter call

[kn0ckout]

— 𖦹 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒   will   come   to   him   with   mice   in   their   teeth,   &&   seek   his   approval;   the   worst   things   will   fall   to   their   knees   before   him   &&   offer   him   their   ribs,   perhaps   so   that   he   can   make   them   into   a   crown   to   wear;   the   worst   things   will   regard   him   with   a   halo   behind   his   head,   &&   they   will   call   him   sir   &&   lord   &&   king.   they   will   praise   him   and,   when   their   admiration   makes   him   sick,   they   will   lay   it   on   thicker:   what   an   honor   it   is   to   displease   the   devil,   to   punish   the   punisher.    the   forest   is   his   sanctum   for   the   moment.   he   has   traveled   here   from   the   care   of   the   worst   of   the   worst,   having   found   no   great   fondness   for   them   in   his   time.   they   seek   to   help   the   thing   within   him,   to   pull   out   the   worst   thing   the   world   has   to   offer   &&   usher   it   forth;   he   cannot   be   with   them.   he   can,   however,   be   with   nature. the   arrow   in   his   side   is   his   own   form   of   company.   as   he   comes   to   a   halt   ‘neath   a   great   canopy,   he   takes   hold   of   the   arrow’s   shaft   &&   tugs   once.   his   body   revolts.   his   hand   relinquishes   the   arrow   near   immediately,   &&   he   hisses   in   pain.    absentminded,   he   tips   his   head   back   against   the   trunk   of   a   particularly   vast   tree,   &&   exhales.   with   his   breath   comes   a   flood   of   unwanted   magic   -   the   scent   of   ash   &&   copper   &&   sulfur,   an   apocalypse   made   person   -   &&   he   grimaces   to   call   it   back   to   him. the   odds   are   low,   &&   yet…he   finds   himself   praying,   quietly,   for   some   measure   of   relief.   a   moonbeam   to   fall   onto   a   herb   to   take;   a   traveler   to   offer   him   aid.    none   of   this   will   come   to   fruition,   he   thinks,   but   he   must   fight   with   optimism.   if   he   does   not,   despair   wins.   if   he   does   not,   the   devil   wins.   and this, he refuses.

@mikroteros // starter call

[kn0ckout]

— 𖦹 𝐈𝐓 𝐇𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐒 𝐓𝐎   breathe.   holy   shit,   it   hurts   to   breathe.   he   expects   the   pain   to   dull   after   a   moment   (   it   usually   does,   even   when   his   quasi-divine   sponsor   isn’t   feeling   particularly   kind   )   but   it   doesn’t:   it   just   shifts   &&   coils   ‘round   &&   ‘round   in   his   gut,   tying   his   insides   together   in   a   horrible   gordian   knot.   between   the   rolling   taste   of   copper   on   his   tongue   &&   the   constant   jolt   of   pain   any   time   he   breathes   in,   it   should   come   as   no   surprise   that   he’s   currently   leaned   against   a   street   corner   &&   barely   staying   conscious. the   exact   occurrence   that   led   to   this   is   pretty   simple.   a   boxing   match   ended   with   several   shots   to   the   gut   being   given   to   him;   a   brief   encounter   with   a   mugger   nearly   put   an   entirely   different   kind   of   shot   in   him;   the   epilogue   of   both   has   left   him   as   he   is   now,   knuckles   bloodied   &&   insides   threatening   to   go   outside   with   the   rest   of   his   lunch   if   he   opens   his   mouth. he   holds   the   BONE-NAIL   DAGGER   to   his   chest.   the   artifact   thrums   with   the   heartbeat   of   a   universe   &&   the   spite   of   a   long-gone   demon’s   stolen   limb.   it   settles   the   pain   only   slightly   not   because   it   forces   his   body   to   heal,   but   because   it   urges   the   thing   in   his   chest   to   lessen   its   hold   on   his   nerves.   the   devil   will   not   have   all   of   him   tonight.   most   of   him,   certainly   -   but   it   will   not   make   him   hurt   more   than   he   already   does. so   here   he   is.   a   black-eyed   boxer   holding   an   artifact   to   his   chest   while   leaning   on   a   building’s   side,   maybe   some   kind   of   mechanic   shop   or   similar   store   if   he   read   the   sign   right.   so   here   he   is   indeed.      

@moonfelling (kaishu) // starter call

[sajasbaby]

-ˏˋ⋆ SAJASBABY ─── a highly selective, independent, & headcanon-based roleplay blog for BABY SAJA from KPOP DEMON HUNTERS . ┈┈┈ this blog will feature mature themes such as: child abuse, mentions of self-harm, depictions of mental illness (ptsd, depression, anxiety disorder, sui.cidal thoughts), violence, gore, blood, death, religious imagery, demons, & murder -- viewer discretion advised. none of it will be romanticized nor should it be. uses the beta editor only. minors dni.

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