#grapplers
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Frankensteiner Grapplers
#the king of fighters#kofedit#kof#king of fighters#kof xiv#kof xv#frankensteiner#grapplers#ralf and clark#clark and ralf#vice and mature#mature and vice#our gifs#vice kof#mature kof#clark still#ralf jones#ikari warriors#metal slug#hyakutaro ichimonji#gaming#gamingedit#gamingladies#gaminghunks#lgbt#lgbtedit#otpsource#wrestling#wrestlingedit#sapphic snakes
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I love La’An, and honestly- grapplers too.
#star trek strange new worlds#edits#st snw#la'an noonien singh#brad boimler#beckett mariner#those old scientists#grapplers
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Day 28
Prompt: Pour me a drink

AO3 link
“Lieutenant Reed? Lieutenant, can you hear me?”
Ensign Sato’s voice seemed to come from a long way away. Reed groaned as he fought his way back to full consciousness; his head hurt, his arm hurt, it hurt to breathe … to be perfectly honest, he hurt everywhere.
Frankly, he’d have been more surprised if he hadn’t been hurting - the shuttlepod had gone down (seriously, did the bloody things ever manage to stay out of trouble when leaving the ship?) due to some kind of lightning strike that had shorted out - well, everything. He remembered swearing as he’d tried to steer the craft away from the mountain, hearing Hoshi’s frantic attempt at a mayday just before the out-of-control vessel had crashed into the top of a forest on one of the smaller peaks below.
It had hit a large tree at an angle that prevented outright destruction but sent the shuttlepod tumbling down the tops of the trees, leaving destruction in its wake. Then there had been a short free-fall before the craft had hit something, bounced, hit something else on the other side, and then fallen ignominiously to the ground at the end.
Thank Hoshi for the seat-belts in the craft; she’d complained about the lack of them back when Enterprise was transporting the Klingon to his home world. Captain Archer had had them installed in the shuttlepods, and the four-point harnesses had come in handy during the current predicament. Otherwise, he and Hoshi would have been flung around inside the vehicle like a pinball in one of those old Earth machines.
He shuddered to think of what might have happened had they been smashed into the walls or, gods forbid, each other, in the headlong tumble down the side of the mountain. Bad enough that various items had broken free from their mountings and smacked into them in the wild fall - he had a vague memory of something hard impacting his chest, accompanied by a crack that hailed at least one broken rib. He also remembered one of his boots connecting with the ensign on at least one occasion, although her legs were too short to do the same; he hated to think of hurting her even accidentally.
Immediately the thought came, he had to check.
“Ensign.” His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, and the word came out as more of an indistinguishable groan. He tried to moisten his mouth by working it around internally, and finally managed to unstick his tongue. Right, let’s try that again.
“Ensign … did I … did I hurt you?” Despite his best efforts, his mouth refused to work at a pace he considered suitable.
A quiet but relieved laugh sounded from his right. “Hardly, Lieutenant,” came a pained murmur. “You gave me a few bruises, to be sure, but being hit in the shoulder by the med-kit when we fell off the trees is what really hurt. I think it’s dislocated.”
Despite her reassurance, her voice was strained and breathy. Malcolm managed to crack his eyes open and stare blearily into the familiar face of his junior officer. Her skin was dirty, her hair dishevelled and pulled out of its usually neat ponytail, and she had grazes and cuts on her forehead and cheek. There was a tightness around her eyes indicating that she was in a fair amount of pain. With his ribs shooting agony through his chest every time he took a deep breath, he could sympathise.
One of Hoshi’s eyes was bruised and so was her cheek; she looked for all the world as though she’d been in a knock-down, drag-out fight. Had he put those bruises there? He must have said that part out loud, for she gave a weak smile and shook her head.
“We were being thrown around like dice in a gambler’s cup, so it’s more likely that I smacked myself in the face or got hit by a piece of equipment. Thank goodness we had harnesses instead of lap belts.”
Malcolm’s eyes had closed; he opened them again and stared around as far as his eyes would go; his head hurt too much to try and turn it. The shuttle was a complete shambles; doors hung open, storage compartments had spilled their contents, and he’d wager that several of the containers within had opened in their haphazard ricocheting around the tumbling interior, hitting one or both of them in the process.
They were both still in their seats, the harnesses having held them in place, slumped though they were. It was a small mercy, he thought, since if he’d fallen , his rib might have punctured a lung. As it was, the pressure of the harness was uncomfortable at best.
“Do I look like I have a concussion?” He was hoping against hope, since he’d had more than enough of those and wasn’t relishing another bash to his brain-pan, especially in the circumstances in which they found themselves.
“Open your eyes and let me look.” He realised that he’d closed his eyes again, so he obliged and looked her way.
Deep brown eyes framed by long lashes stared into his and he stared back, reasoning that he should be checking her for concussion, too. Her pupils seemed to be even-sized, at least from this distance; he breathed a sigh of relief, and even felt a touch of amusement at how earnestly she was checking his, in turn.
“No, I don’t think so.” There was a corresponding note of relief in her voice; she knew how many he’d had - too many, in his considered opinion - and obviously shared his feelings on the idea of him having yet another. “Your pupils are the same size. You did hit your head on the console, though - I remember seeing that, for some reason - but it wasn’t hard enough to knock you unconscious at that point. You seem to have a lot of blood in your hair - but then head wounds tend to bleed like a bollocking bitch.”
Malcolm let out a snort of laughter but thankfully managed not to hurt his ribs in the process; Hoshi stared at him, puzzled, until she suddenly realised what she’d said and mortification filled her face, her eyes widening as she went pale. Her mouth dropped open but she couldn’t seem to speak. Finally he took pity on her and filled the horrified silence.
“I wasn’t aware you knew that particular British vernacular, Ensign?” He kept his tone light and teasing, but it didn’t seem to help.
Hoshi gulped, her eyes sliding away from his as she blushed fierily. Her voice was pitched higher than usual as she stuttered her confession.
“I’ve, um, overheard … sometimes when you … when things don’t go right in the Armoury late at night … or else you’ve been in a Jefferies tube when I’m passing by … but I promise I’m not eavesdropping!”
Her gaze shot back to his, a little panicked now, to his silent regret.
“Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble; I’m only teasing you, Hoshi.” The use of her name made her blink, and an uncertain smile curved her lips. Malcolm smiled at her encouragingly, and her own smile firmed in response.
“Sorry, sir, I forget sometimes about conduct becoming of an offic—” She began to shrug her shoulders, then gasped and went pale, her right hand flying to her left shoulder. Sweat broke out on her forehead and her eyes squeezed shut, a low moan leaving her as fire sparked unpleasantly along her nerve endings and her entire body stiffened in agony.
Malcolm reached over to her in alarm, wishing there was something he could do - he knew just how much a dislocation hurt.
“Is there anything I can do to help you?”
“I’d say pour me a drink, but that’ll have to come later.” Her voice was tight and thready with pain, even as she tried to chuckle, and when she finally opened her eyes, they were glazed and unfocused. “I think my shoulder got wrenched in the fall and then the med-kit hit me really hard and I passed out.”
“So we were both unconscious? I wonder how long we were out.” If he could take her mind off the pain by talking of something else, he would.
“I’m not sure, but you’ve been awake now for almost five minutes and I regained consciousness a few minutes before you, so hopefully not that long.”
“I take it we can’t get through to Enterprise.”
Hoshi shook her head. “The electronics seem to be fried. We could have been hit with an EM pulse or the preceding wave of a coronal mass ejection. Though I feel like…” She hesitated, and looked away.
“Feel like what?”
She turned her eyes back toward him, and looked a little embarrassed. “I thought I saw the lightning coming up from the ground.”
He gave her a considering look. “Well, lightning can come from the ground, but since there wasn’t a storm underway, what you saw might have been caused by something else. We’d have to use our systems to figure out exactly what caused it. But for now we need to figure out how to contact the ship.”
Hoshi looked around at the debris, and her face cleared. “There’s the emergency comms kit. It must have fallen out of the locker when everything broke open.” She hit the release on her harness and withdrew her right arm. Getting her feet on the floor, she carefully turned her body to pull out her left arm until it lay limply along her body.
As Malcolm reached for his own harness buckle, she put out her hand to stop him. “Stay there for a bit, sir. It’s easier for me to bend than you, but you have the use of both hands, so I’ll hand you the box and you take over.”
He paused and nodded. “Very well then.” He could see the box himself; it lay on the front edge of the console, up against the viewing port.
Hoshi stepped away from her seat and leaned her hip against the console; the shuttle wasn’t exactly lying evenly on its hull. She turned so that her right side was closest to the box, and began leaning over. Her left arm slid off her waist and jolted, and she cried out and stiffened, breathing through the pain as Malcolm watched in sympathy, not saying anything. After a few moments she stood upright, reaching her right arm across herself and fumbling before sighing in frustration and stepping over to Malcolm.
“Please unzip my pocket, sir, and stick my left hand into it. Once I get the med-kit, you’ll have to bind my arm, but for now I just need it held somewhere so it doesn’t flop around and make me want to pass out.”
Malcolm nodded, and carefully unzipped the standard pocket on Hoshi’s left leg. “I apologise if I accidentally hurt you, Ensign,” he said, taking the utmost care as he gently manoeuvred her unresisting hand into the pocket. She hissed slightly, but didn’t complain as he pushed it in as far as possible. “How’s that?”
“Hopefully a little easier to deal with.” She took a step back toward the console. “Thank you. Now let’s hope I can grab the comms kit and we can try to get out of here.”
Once again she leaned against the console and stretched; this time her left arm stayed put and she was able to grab the comms kit by its handle and push herself upright with her right hand, dragging the kit with her with each bounce of her hand. Finally she was upright and could turn and deliver the box to Malcolm. He took it from her and balanced it on his knees to open it, taking out one of the two communicators locked inside the lined case.
“Are you sure these will work?”
“Yes; the case is lined, they’re both switched off, and they’re military-grade hardened against EM pulses. Go ahead and switch it on; we don’t need the other right now, so you might as well lock it away just in case.”
It took a moment for the communicator to turn on; then he held it out to Hoshi. After a moment’s hesitation she took it and leaned back against the console, her eyes on his.
“Enterprise, come in.” Nothing. She clicked again. “Enterprise, this is Shuttlepod One. Come in.”
Nothing.
For a moment, despair crossed her face, her eyes flickering and mouth pursing; then she raised the communicator for a third time, her lips tightening and eyes narrowing with determination.
A faint burst of static sounded just as she opened her mouth. She looked down at it, startled, then clicked the receiver.
“Enterprise? Can you hear us?”
“We can hear you, Shuttlepod One.” That was Captain Archer’s voice. “We can’t necessarily get down to you, but we can finally hear you. Our sensors show that your biosigns are weak but stable; what’s the situation down there?”
“The pod went down after a lightning strike or some sort of EM pulse, Captain,” reported Lieutenant Reed. “It was a rough ride down to the ground, and I’d venture to say this craft won’t fly again for the foreseeable future. Both Ensign Sato and I are injured and unable to do very much. Will you be able to get us out?”
“That might be a problem, Malcolm, since it seems there’s some lightning activity across the ground. From what we can see, it’s a mineral that’s creating emissions similar to what we might consider a form of communication; that’s probably why we thought it was a distress call. But it’s actually causing sparks and lightning from the ground, and that’s what seems to have hit you.”
“Wonderful. How are we going to get out of here then, sir? I’d assume you can’t use the transporter in these conditions.”
“No, but we may have some luck on our side. The Vulcan ship Solantis is a couple of hours away. It’s small enough to enter the atmosphere and has a powerful tractor beam. We’ve asked them to assist us in trying to retrieve you.”
Malcolm’s eyes searched Hoshi’s. He saw resignation and acceptance; a few more hours with the pain. It would have to be endured. Hopefully they would still find analgesics in the med-kit.
“Understood, sir. We’re going to switch off the communicator in case there’s another electrical burst. We’ll check in every half-hour.”
“Very well, lieutenant. I know I don’t have to tell you to look out for each other. We’ll try not to keep you waiting too long. Enterprise out.”
Hoshi closed the communicator and switched it off before sliding it into her pocket.
“At least two hours, maybe more.” Her face was a little pinched; he could understand her lack of enthusiasm at the idea of waiting. Then she started looking around. “If we’re going to wait, we’re going to do so with some analgesics under our belts. Can you see the med-kit anywhere?”
He looked around; nothing was visible within his range of vision. Then Hoshi looked over his shoulder and her eyes brightened.
“There it is! I’m going to go and grab it - or kick it over here, whichever’s easiest. Then I’ll put it on the console and leave it up to you to get what we need. Is that okay?”
“That will be fine. I think I can release my harness now. And then I’ll strap up your shoulder for the next couple of hours, until we can get you to Sickbay. I don’t want to risk injuring you worse by trying to put it back.”
He watched her pupils dilate and eyes narrow at the same time; the thought of relief warred with the fear of increased agony. But she didn’t say no.
Hoshi made her way past Malcolm’s seat and he heard her kicking at something that slid along the floor. Finally the med-kit came to rest in front of his feet. She followed and crouched, right hand gripping the handle and lifting the med-kit onto its spine. He saw her brace her back and push against the case, lifting from a squat and bringing the med-kit with her as she rose. The momentum allowed her to swing the case onto the console. Everything was shut down because of the EM pulse, so it didn’t matter what buttons were pushed.
“There you go, sir.” Hoshi moved to one side, and Malcolm saw the sweat beaded on her forehead. She’d gone pale and, he was willing to bet, clammy. The exertion must have been too much for her.
Undoing his harness, he moved carefully to get to and open the med-kit. First things first; there were two analgesic hypo-sprays in the kit. He put one in his pocket, and turned to Hoshi with the other.
“Let’s take the edge off, Ensign.” He pressed the hypo-spray against the side of her throat; almost immediately after the hiss, her muscles relaxed infinitesimally and she let out a sigh of relief.
“Oh, gods, thank you, sir. The pain’s not gone, but it’s dulled down to an eight now.”
“Let’s get your arm strapped up and that should help, too.”
“After you’ve taken your analgesic, sir.”
“I’m fine, Ensign. You’re the one in pain.”
“You have a broken rib, possibly more than one. Don’t tell me you’re not in pain, because I won’t believe you. There were two analgesics in the med-kit, and since we can’t strap you up, you have to take one and get some relief.”
“Ensign, I—”
“It’s not a request, sir. You may be my senior officer, but you’re no good to me if you’re in too much pain to help me do anything.”
Malcolm glared at her and she glared right back at him. As he opened his mouth, Hoshi interrupted whatever he was about to say.
“Please don’t order me to take it, either; I don’t want to disobey a direct order, but I will if I have to.”
He could scarcely believe that she was back-chatting him; but her actions on board the Klingon vessel had already shown him that Hoshi had no compunction about going her own way if she saw the need. She hadn’t undergone the exact same Starfleet training as the rest, after all, and she was somewhat of a rebel to begin with. And as a professor before she’d joined Enterprise, she was used to much more autonomy than she was granted as an ensign. No wonder she was far more assertive than anyone would have guessed based on her rank and initial trepidation.
He sighed. “Very well, Ensign. I’m doing this under duress, but I won’t deny that it would be a relief to feel a little less pain from my rib.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the other hypo-spray and injected himself, relaxing a little from the sheer relief, but staying upright to prevent the rib from grating and hurting him more.
Hoshi looked relieved, too. “Thank you, sir. You were so white around the lips I couldn’t bear the thought of you suffering like that for the next few hours.”
“Well, thank you for your concern, Ensign. I appreciate your candour, if not the methods employed. Now, let’s get that arm strapped up.”
He searched the med-kit for the longest bandages he could find, then turned to Hoshi. “Unzip down to about … your belly-button, please. Then I’m going to move your hand inside your uniform and tighten the zip as much as possible to hold your arm in place. And then I’ll strap you up to immobilise that arm for the next couple of hours.”
Nodding, she tugged down the zip of her flight suit. Malcolm took hold of her left wrist and carefully withdrew her hand from her pocket before slowly bending the elbow and sliding her hand inside her uniform. Putting his hand on her elbow, he tried to ignore the way she was breathing hard through her nose and pushed gently until her upper arm was almost in a straight line with her torso.
Grabbing the bandage, he placed one end against her back, then hesitated.
“The best way is probably going to be for you to turn, while I strap this around you; there isn’t much room for me to walk around you and with this rib, I can’t use my arms to their full range of motion.”
“That sounds fine, Lieutenant.” Hoshi’s voice was breathless, but not yet reedy. He wanted to get her strapped up as quickly as he could to relieve as much of her discomfort as possible.
She rotated once or twice, right arm in the air, until he had the bandage in place, and then was able to move a little faster, until he had almost her entire torso swathed, down to under her left elbow, holding the limb snugly in place.
“There, done,” he said, tucking the end of the bandage under itself against her side. “And just in time for the first check-in, too.”
Hoshi reached into her pocket and withdrew the communicator, handing it to him. Her colour was already better, now that her arm was supported.
“Enterprise, this is Shuttlepod One, checking in.”
“We read you loud and clear, Shuttlepod One,” came the captain’s voice. “Good news; the Solantis is making better time than expected, and will rendezvous with us within the next half-hour. We may be able to get you back sooner, if all goes according to plan.”
“That’s excellent news, sir.” Malcolm nodded at Hoshi in relief. “We’ll be ready and waiting for the next check-in.”
“Let’s hope it’s a quick and easy retrieval, Malcolm. We want you two back on board as quickly as possible.”
“Yes, sir,” they said in unison, grinning at each other.
“Shuttlepod One out.”
Hoshi sighed with relief as Malcolm switched off the communicator and handed it back to her.
“That’s good news. And thank you, sir, for strapping up my arm. It feels so much better now. Still hurts, but at least it’s not that dragging pain from before.”
“You’re welcome, Ensign. Now let’s get something to eat and drink, and then I reckon it would be best to strap ourselves into the chairs again so we’re ready for any movement should the tractor beam swing us around.”
“Good idea.”
By the time they’d located the protein bars and water, and managed to wolf down enough to appease their hunger and thirst, it was time for the next check-in.
“We’re strapped in and ready to go, sir. We thought it best to put on our harnesses, just to be on the safe side.”
“Good thinking, Lieutenant. The Solantis is on its way into the atmosphere. Get ready to be lifted.”
“Aye, sir. We’re ready.”
He looked over at Hoshi; he’d harnessed her into his seat and taken hers; that way he could hold on to the communicator in his right hand, and reach over to take her right hand in his left. As the shuttlepod moved and came free from the hold the ground had on it, the craft jolted, fallen items moving around them as it straightened out.
Hoshi’s hand tightened on his; he looked over at her and saw that her eyes were tightly closed. The craft cleared the debris that had fallen on it, and the jolting lessened, their movements smoothing out.
“How’s it going, Malcolm?”
“Better, sir. We seem to have cleared the ground and debris, and it feels like we’re in the air.”
“We can see you on our scanners. You’re not far from the Solantis. They’ll bring you above the atmosphere so we can hook you with the grapplers. So be prepared for a bit more jostling.”
“Yes, sir.”
It seemed to take hours, but was only minutes, before the shuttlepod stopped rising; then it moved to one side, probably as the Solantis cleared the atmosphere with the small craft in tow.
The Enterprise hove into view through the view-screen, and Malcolm let out a sigh of relief. “That’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.”
Hoshi opened her eyes, and he watched a smile make its way across her face as she looked at the ship. “I couldn’t agree more, sir. I just want to get home and back to my quarters.”
“Shuttlepod One, get ready for impact.”
“Aye, sir.”
They watched as the grappling arm turned toward them; then the grapplers themselves were released, shooting toward the shuttlepod and trailing their long cables. The magnets connected with a thump that shook the shuttlepod and the cables pulled taut; then the craft dropped slightly - probably as the tractor beam released them. Enterprise started growing in the view-screen as the grapplers reeled them in.
“Malcolm, Hoshi, are you still okay?”
“Yes, sir, we’re watching you get closer.”
“Right; we’re transporting you over now. We’ll work out how to get the shuttlepod back once we have you safe.”
As he opened his mouth to reply, the familiar blue tingles surrounded them and the view of Enterprise vanished. They looked across the transporter room at Trip and T’Pol.
“Welcome back, you two. Glad to see you’re in one piece.”
“Glad to be back, Commander, Sub-Commander.”
Doctor Phlox swept into the room, scanner in hand. “Ah, Lieutenant, Ensign! Good to have you back on board.” As he pointed the scanner at them, he said blithely, “You can let go of each other’s hands now; you’re out of danger and it will allow for better results on the scans.”
The two snatched their hands apart, going red; Trip thought he hadn’t seen anything so funny for a while. As he opened his mouth to tease them, he caught the austere glance from his Vulcan colleague, and a glare from Hoshi that threatened retribution. Swallowing whatever it was he’d planned to say, the chief engineer instead turned his sunny, studiously innocent gaze on his British friend.
Malcolm looked daggers at him, but it was clear from the tactical officer’s resigned expression that he knew there would be an inordinate amount of teasing in his future.
They were definitely back where they belonged.
#fic#30-day writer's challenge#ent appreciation april 2025#shuttlepod#grapplers#star trek enterprise#malcolm reed#hoshi sato#whump#hurt/comfort#hoshi sato isn't taking any shit#she's no scaredy-cat
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Trapped
John Romita
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Something I've never brought up in public is that I do a majority of the thumbnails on my friend Bass Boosted's YouTube channel, with this being today's upload and possibly my magnum opus. Click on the link below the image above if you want to see two guys play grapplers, talk about Street Fighter, and throw rock
#thumbnail#content creation#youtube#fighting games#under night in birth#uni 2#street fighter#grapplers#my art
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This classic Tag Team squash from my old DVD archives features the masked Grapplers beating down jobber Rick McGraw -- a stocky fireplug who always looked beefy and huggable, and cute, too! His partner is young Eric Embry, one of my favorite wrestlers from the 1980s. (In this video, we sadly don't see much of Embry (until the pinfall) because McGraw plays Face-in-Peril for most of the match.)
This aired on Southwest Championship Wrestling and the original commentary was in Spanish which I don't speak. So I decided to dub in some audio from one of my favorite Tag Team matches produced by BG East. Turn up the volume if you enjoy suffering males moaning and groaning, which for me really adds to McGraw's performance of sexy agony and defeat.
The Grapplers really kick McGraw's ass pretty good -- I lost count of how many Knee Drops they drove into his forehead. And can I just say, I always thought their matching black-and-white hoods were tuff and intimidating and kinky AF.
#wrestling video#masked pro wrestler#grapplers#eric embry#rick mcgraw#jobber squash#double-teaming#tag team wrestling
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Just curious if you had any though regarding the Grapplers. Me? Love 'em. Pro Wrestling Heels AND super villains? I just wanted one of them to cut a promo on Captain America or the Thing, maybe promise to fight them at the next PPV
This is entrapment. I'll answer the question just know that you brought the unhinged second half on yourself.
I think I've said this in public before but I am a MASSIVE Songbird fan. Melissa Gold is one of those characters I follow with very heavy interest, everything she does I am there to read it. As such my familiarity with Screaming Mimi is more as stories of Melissa's dumb college years. Like she ran off a got a stupid, unsightly piercing rather than spending several years doing actual CRIMES with the 3 most butch women I have ever seen. I've never read any real stories with them but I hope to run across them someday so I have some actual thoughts to share. That in mind, let's get down to what you all knew was going to happen here.
Poundcakes:
HSKKKFGGNNNASoOOMMMMAAMAAAAFFFFFUUUU
<3.<3<3.<3<3.<3<3.<3<3.<3<3.<3<3.<3<3.<3<3.<3<3.<3<3.<3<3.<3
Letha:
FUCK! I mean...ho baby FUCK! *pant pant pant* humminahummina
Merciful god nothing about that woman is either legal or godly sweet mary mother of- Titania:
HHNNNNNNN, ok, yep, that's it. Split my collection amongst yourselves because my wretched, sinful soul is floating away from this earth on a cloud of that woman's FUCKING BICEPS
#marvel#marvel comics#marvel universe#marvel heroes#superhero#comics#grapplers#screaming mini#melissa gold#Lascivious#davida devito#poundcakes#marian pouncy#letha#hellen feliciano
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How successful would Sharon Ventura…

Would you like to submit a character? Click this link if you do!
#could they survive the big leagues#sharon ventura#she thing#she-thing#marvel#marvel comics#ms marvel#ms. marvel#fantastic four#grapplers#Unlimited Class Wrestling Federation#marvel polls#marvel characters#the thing#marvel ultimate alliance#marvel series#miss marvel#marvel fandom#tumblr polls#polls#character polls#fandom polls#wrestling#wrestling polls#poll time#hyper specific poll#poll game#wwe#professional wrestling#pro wrestling
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Is this a sex thing?

Yup, this is a sex thing.
Dazzler #13 (1982)
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You know, the way some people talk about grapplers like they're always low tiers in every game is so weird to me, because grapplers are quite often not the underdogs in their games, and it's especially noticeable looking back at previous titles in popular fgcs, even with all the kusoge garbage grapplers there was still
Zangief who was really good in SF4 and a high tier in Alpha 3
Abigail was a top tier in SFV until nerfed
Both Tager and Potemkin have had games where they were top tiers
Hulk and Haggar are both fantastic characters in UMVC3
King had a move that was +93 on block in Tekken 1 and anybody who knows frame advantage should realize why that's insane
Beowulf and Cerebella are great characters in Skullgirls
KOF is full of grapplers, and even if you want to be picky and call most of them rushdown, slower more traditional grapplers like Goro Daimon have still been high tier
And so on and so forth. A lot of grapplers are lower on the tier side of things, but almost all of them are viable, and quite a lot of them are actually the big meta threats in their games. Just something I think a few of you would like to know.
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Street Fighter 6 is awesome. I've been having alot of fun playing as Zangief against my friends. Also, yes. There are mods that can create the greenscreen effect.
Edit: I can't believe I forgot to link where to get the green screen tool. It's part of the Lua Freecam mod. You can get it at this discord server: https://discord.gg/9Vr2SJ3
#street fighter 6#zangief#juri han#transparent gif#street fighter#grapplers#command grab#spd#spinning piledriver#screw piledriver
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my biggest source of dopamine is getting jump reads with Potemkin. they are what I play guilty gear for.
i like the ones where i feel like i intentionally made them jump into my Heavenly Potemkin Buster. conditioning and pressuring them into the corner so jumping feels like the only option.
i love the ones where i know they're going to jump because of a pattern I've noticed. i really feel like im inside their head with those ones.
my favorites are the ones that not even i am aware are about to happen. some subconscious pattern recognition or fuckin divine clairvoyance just tells me they are going to jump. I'm not even aware of these half the time. my fingers just GO. im just as surprised as my opponent half the time. i REALLY feel like I'm inside their head with those ones.
oh and the massive explosion followed by the deletion of half their healthbar definitely helps too.
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Fighting games, the most glorious rage inducing, pull out your hair, yet satisfying experience this side of getting one up on that particular family member that you hate to be around. This feeling is what ultimately brings me to my topic, Grapplers!
While there are many fighting game archetypes that people hate, mainly all the ones they don't play, it seems grapplers and their players seem to get a lot of hate. Well, at least in the wide casual perspective. Why is this? Is it because of our superior mental acuity? Our superior might? Is it jealousy of our sheer intimidating presence? Despite being the best, grapplers to this day often get chastised for being brain dead, cheap, and just unfun to play against. Who's fault is this? Is it the developers fault for making us so strong while being so mid? Is it the busted AI because they always know when they can grab you? Is it because of their soft spines and fragile necks? We can only speculate.
In all seriousness, it really seems like grapplers get people up in quite a fit. I only ever seem to get rage quitters or 1 and dones when I play grapplers. My wife, who doesn't even play fighting games, but from the few times she played SF2 on the SNES, hates Zangief to this day. She will give me shit every time I start a new game and pick the grappler. Even with actual players, there's discourse over them. Some lunatics have tried to call out and get Zangief nerfed in SF6. Zangief!! The character generally considered the bottom 2, if not THE worst character in the game. Even playing Tager, in the first Blazblue, or Kanji in P4A, online, I got hate messages.
In the end, though, nothing is more satisfying than landing that throw. This hit of dopamine, every time you read your opponent like a book, or in the minor few instances, make a lucky guess, the feeling is amazing. And maybe I'm just an arsehole,but just imagining my opponent raging after I dash up and hit that SPD for a 3rd time in a row, chef's kiss. So if you've ever raged, gotten upset at a grappler, or chuckled along as you throw your opponent to the ground, bless you. As for me? I'm thinking of changing my name to Jebediah because I'm gonna stay churning butter every day. May the grappler gods bless you and join the Throw World Order. Later friends.
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Zangief's lack of green hand has been and continues to be the talk of the town ever since SFV's release, and a lot of people have come to the conclusion that aside from USF4, green hand has been a substantially very weak move and wasn't integral to the character's ability to work his way through fireball zoning. But why does nobody ever ask what the hell happened to quick lariat?
Seriously, why doesn't he have this anymore? It's not as long and beats lows while losing to highs, which obviously really complements punch lariat's weaknesses. Now that quick lariat is not in the game, punch lariat once again loses to all of the things that quick lariat was designed to address in the first place and Zangief has even more difficulty traversing neutral against characters with far better midscreen and fullscreen capability.
You can keep your green hand, but the lack of quick lariat in addition to weaknesses in his other moves makes Zangief borderline dysfunctional in SF6. If there's one thing that I think Gief absolutely needs more than anything else in this game, it's quick lariat
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The strongest grappler main to fight would be your psychologists as they would know enough about you to read your backdash option
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#fighting games#grapplers#i mean think about it grappler's live off reads and who's easier to know then your patient#This is not an excuse to avoid seeing one to get a better match up
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