#sanmartyrs

[notjustblood]

"Again." Blood was spat on the floor of the ring from the abandoned gym they were using for their training sessions. It was easier that way. No prying eyes lingering on them, no vultures snitching what the Bloodhounds were doing to the powers that be. It was better like that. Anonymous to the world, dancing a bloody tune in a ring. Blows were exchanged. Vicious. Brutal. Acrobatics that defied logic as he and Briar continued to punch, kick, and bruise each other like nothing else mattered. If one were to hit the other, a counterattack would be issued. A punch to the jaw was replied to with a knee to the stomach. A roundhouse kick to the face answered by slamming the other down against the ring. Sweat and blood filled the air, adrenaline coursing through their veins. No powers. This was a one-on-one brawl without the aid of their gifts. It would be unfair otherwise. "You keep your left flank open when you attack." A punch to the ribs gets Bloodborn an elbow to the temple. He gains distance, blood dripping down his nose, his mouth, his torso. And while most people would find that gruesome, he had never felt more alive than exchanging blows with someone who actually knew how to fight. "Yes, we have powers but that does not mean we can slouch." He could easily blow someone's head off with a snap of his fingers or give them a severe heart attack. He could implode someone's heart within their chest - but nothing made Ji Hao feel better than a proper brawl. "You are improving." As he expected. Briar was already amazing on his own right but to keep up with him? Actually, make him bleed and hurt? What a fucking turn-on. If all the members of the Bloodhounds were like this, they would put the fucking Seven to shame. "Even if I end up in the ivory tower with the Seven…" Fucking pricks. "I will still train with you. Guide you." Someone had to take over if he wasn't around. "I don't give a fuck what those pricks want. This was my home first."

@sanmartyrs gets a bloody nose

[splatterpunkd]

" seriously, guys. this isn't funny. " six foot one and a total beefcake, but sylas was still a pushover when it came to confrontation. he really had meant to leave the office earlier, but his work had consumed him, forcing him to leave at nearly 2AM.

naturally, it was just his luck to run into a pack of goons looking for trouble.

they'd snatched the high-tech visor off of his face, tossing it back and forth, really making a show of it. he could make their phones explode, pull out a drone and use it to fend them off, but he hadn't worked up the nerve yet.

one of them strikes him hard across the face as he tries to free his tech in a single act of courage, sending him to the ground.

" ow, fuck... "

@sanmartyrs

[bark4mebtch]

The morgue always smelled like stale coffee and chemicals, and Blitzen had decided, somewhere around month three, that he didn't mind it. Most of his coworkers did. They developed rituals. Strong coffee before a shift, a specific playlist on the drive home, anything to create distance between the work and the rest of their lives. Blitzen had never felt that particular need. The distance simply wasn't there for him, and he'd stopped pretending otherwise. He walked home. He always walked home, rain or not, cold or not. The city at this hour had a specific quality he'd grown fond of. The sidewalks thinned out, surroundings were quieter, the worst of the foot traffic dissolved into bars and apartments. He moved through it easily, tall and long-limbed, the hood of his jacket pushed back despite the drizzle. His antlers caught the occasional glance from a passing stranger. He returned none of them.

Two years and the city had mostly absorbed him. Kind of. There were still neighborhoods where people stared longer than was polite, still moments where someone's gaze would snag on his ears, his eyes, the subtle jarringness of his proportions. He'd learned to read the difference between curious and threatening in about three seconds flat. Old habit. Useful habit. His hands were clean. They were always clean by the time he left, he was meticulous about that but he was aware of them anyway, turning his phone over idly as he walked. Ducky had texted twenty minutes ago. Clinic's done. Picking up groceries. Any requests? Blitzen had sent back something specific. Chocolate rice cakes. He always did. He had a fondness for them and their simplicity.

Blitz had his hood up and his eyes on his phone when it happened. A body coming around the corner at the wrong angle, the collision sudden and graceless. His hands shot out and caught them by the shoulders before his thoughts had any say in the matter. And then he felt it. Not with his hands. Deeper than that. It wasn't something he could explain to anyone who asked. The ability didn't announce itself. It was quiet, almost passive. He could only express it as pressing your ear to a wall and hearing the whole architecture of the building hum back at you. One heartbeat of contact and the stranger's interior geography opened up to him.

Healthy. Unremarkable in all the clinical ways that mattered. But other things came through too. The specific tension carried in the shoulders beneath his palms read as chronic, settled in. The shallow rhythm of someone who'd forgotten, a long time ago, what it felt like to breathe without something sitting on their chest. He let go and offered an easy smile, the kind he'd practiced until it looked natural. "Um... m- my fault entirely." Blitzen said, tilting his head in a small, reflexive apology. The rain dripped off the edge of one antler. "I... shouldn't text and walk. Are you alright?" Perfectly pleasant. Perfectly normal. The map of them was already filed away somewhere quiet behind his eyes, neat and patient, like a book returned to its shelf. Blitzen blinked, slowly, like waking up from a fog. His sleepy deer brain recognizing the face in the low light. "Doesn't paper... melt in the rain?" There was no malice in his voice despite the question, lips twitching to smile charmingly at the other man, ignoring the rain dripping off his antlers. It was an innocent question. And a valid one at that.

@sanmartyrs