#don't match length i just went feral

[accustiv-archived]

@vanishinq ❤️

there was a buzz of activity in the corner when beau got to the mess hall. a cluster of inmates quite clearly attempting to intimidate some poor soul, he’d been there too, at the start.he’d looked like an easy target, young and skinny and rumoured to be some pathetic white collar criminal, but beau had stood his ground, made the right kind of connections, made himself well liked enough to avoid more than the most desperate attempts of some brute to look tough. His eyes dance over the scene, then flick to his cellmate in silent question. ‘ some new guy got brought in last night, they say he’s the ghost, you know? ’ the information came so freely that beau was almost surprised. he'd faced those same rumours, until agent bishop had unceremoniously stripped him of the honour of being art crime’s number one bastard, making his own efforts and career feel horribly pointless. all the same, beau scoffs. “ doubt it. ” he mutters in response, because it had been years, and he doubted casper was even still in california, only an idiot would have trusted beau to keep his mouth shut, only a fool would -

his eyes flick up again, and this time there’s a break in the intimidation team, his gaze locks on someone he hadn’t expected to see until after his release. he wasn’t the same; his eyes duller, face more rigid, he looked sick, he looked sad. but it was casper. beau’s heart stopped, he was sure of it, felt the final thud and expected to wake up in the infirmary. but he didn’t, time just seemed to stretch out indefinitely, until a sharp elbow is in his ribs and he tears his attention away to glare impatiently at the man beside him. ‘ you know him? is it him? ’ beau scowls, and shakes his head, “ he’s just some prick i ran into a couple of times. ” he recites, quickly. but he’s already pushing away, crossing the room, edging through the gathered huddle of men, a gentle shove against their ringleader landing him right in front of cas. he doesn’t speak, although there’s a murmur of questions aimed at him, he just stares at the man he had fantasised about destroying almost every long night since he had been sentenced.

“ well. this is a surprise. ” he says, eventually, before breaking eye contact with cas as he turned, shooting an apologetic smile at the group as a whole, “ sorry boys, i have dibs on this one. mind if i have a quick word with - ” he shoots a glance over his shoulder, “ my old buddy here? ” his accent’s rougher, more in line with his natural one, his boarding school clipped consonants and sharp vowels giving way to a lazier, flatter tone. beau knows when sounding like a rich boy is useful, turns out, federal prison isn’t the place. he doesn’t wait for a response, turning away, “ you gonna talk to me, reid? ”

[crisiscutie]

Yandere!Sephiroth’s dear daughter can’t flee from him or his influence so easily if he KNOCKS HER UP… Droppin’ the other shoe because it was implied a little in the last post last month.

I’d like to hear HCs or a drabble on how it happens and how the sweet girl reacts and how she ends up… Either or, whichever one you feel like writing.

Oh, Sephiroth would not be happy that his sweet girl forced his hand on this... But eventually, darling will need to learn that there's just no getting away from her loving father~.

Content Warning: NSFW. Yandere Father Sephy. Noncon. Cumflation. DDDNE.

Your father effortlessly held you as if you weighed nothing. His hands held your thighs upwards, full-nelson style while slimy pink tentacles spread your unprepared cunt.

You noticed that the pink tentacles were emerging from a fragment of your mother JENOVA, which your father had set aside so he could punish you. This only made your heart pound harder.

You just weren't found of anything related to her, or any tentacles, for that matter.

His throbbing, angry cock neared your cunt, the bulbous head leaking pre-cum.

The tight and possessive hold he had on your body made it difficult for you to move.

"Tell me, is this what you would've wanted from him?" he hissed into your ear, seething with jealousy. "The one you wanted to marry?"

His deep voice had lost its familiar, loving, fatherly tone. Instead, his deep voice was infused with a seething jealousy.

And you couldn't see it, but you knew his slit eyes were burning with fury.

You were absolutely terrified. You had never seen Sephiroth so angry before.

"Please, father! I'm-"

He shoved his cock into your cunt, forcing you to take his entire length at once.

Your father's cock slammed into your cervix repeatedly while he menacingly whispered into your ear.

"I will not allow another man to taint you... Your purity is mine and mine alone to take."

You felt your belly distend from his thrusts, creating a large bulge.

A bigger pink tentacle slid up your body, coiling around one of your tits to play with.

A series of stifled groans escaped his lips. This is a costly lesson you needed to learn, but it was so difficult for him to not go all out on you.

It's not that he's afraid of hurting you; rather it's about stirring the feral JENOVA beast within you. Your protomateria can only restrain so much of your raw power.

But your greedy cunt drew his cock deeper, only encouraging his lustful frenzy.

The pink tentacle playing with your tit became more rough to match Sephiroth's ruthless pace. It managed to coax some milk out of it, even though you weren't lactating.

The pleasure receptors in your brain went into overdrive as he got closer to his orgasm.

You didn't think being fucked by your perfect father could be so exhilarating and rough at the same time.

Just before you lost all sense of reason, you made a feeble plea to him.

"F-Father, why... won't you let me..." He gave your cervix one last brutal thrust. "-GO!"

As he released his warm, sticky load into your womb, both your eyes and his dilated.

Sephiroth panted, his cock still deep within your cunt. He had no intention of withdrawing until your womb could hold no more of his corrupted cum. He still held your thighs upwards.

His familiar, gentle, and affectionate smile returned as your belly swelled with his cum, almost making it look pregnant. He leaned closer to your ear, almost kissing it.

"Because daughters belong to their father, sweet girl..."

You're right, anon, I don't think she's getting away with a heavy belly full of her father's cum.

[ratinayellowbandana]

Hi! Number six of the drabble prompt list, and if I may suggest, with a sad jealous Laudna.

hi! I'm sorry this one took a few days. I um. got a little carried away with it again. these were only supposed to be like 500-word prompt fills, and this is uh, slightly more than that. so I hope that's ok.

for those who don't want to find the prompt, it was: "You just didn't look for me." naturally I went ep 64 with a healthy splash of canon divergence, some good old-fashioned hurt/comfort, and pate as a thinly veiled metaphor.

length: 2k

~~~

Laudna whirls on her, snaps, “We looked for you. And the others. Every fucking day.” She holds Imogen’s gaze, holds her piercing stare until Imogen tilts her head. “You just didn’t look for me,” she whispers. 

Imogen steps forward, quiet but insistent. “No, sweetheart, no, we did. I did. Every day.” She does not reach out, afraid, not of Laudna–never of Laudna–but of herself. Of what she might do if given the chance at the wrong time. Her heart pounds an unsteady rhythm.

“I want to believe you,” Laudna says. She toys with the brass ring on her left hand, twisting it around her finger anxiously, twin snakes coiling. “I do, truly, it’s just…” 

Imogen studies her, searching for answers in a frame both foreign and familiar. Laudna is pale and gaunt, cheeks drawn in, though that’s hardly unusual. Her stringy dark hair lacks luster in the eerie light of the red moon, crispy and clumped together in places by something Imogen can’t identify. Cast in the long shadows between buildings, Laudna is on edge, ready to claw and screech and lash out with those wicked talons if provoked. She is wild, and she is beautiful, and she is frightened.  

“I understand,” Imogen speaks slowly, gently, distinctly aware of each word’s weight. 

The others are still in the inn, consorting in the tavern. The Hells and their new friends, chatting, laughing, and drinking the night away, simply happy to be home. Introductions were made, and tales of grandeur waited to be spun. 

Laudna had been unnervingly quiet after the initial elation wore off. Her hands remained folded in her lap or picked intently at the skin around her nails. Pâté’s silence was even more concerning. He had been coaxed out of hiding in Laudna’s hair with the promise of scratches and nudged his beak into her wrist until she began stroking his greasy fur. 

She spoke when spoken to, adjusting in her seat and responding eagerly when prompted. The moment the attention shifted, though, her forced smile would drop. Every so often, she sent a furtive glance in Imogen’s direction as if to ensure she was still there, then looked away just as quickly. Exhaustion crept at the corners of her eyes, and her gaze would fall to her lap whenever the conversation turned to the adventures in Wildemount. 

The group from Issylra hadn’t said much about their travels, but Imogen gathered their transplantation had not been as, ah, pleasant wasn’t quite the right word. Illustrious, maybe, Imogen considered, fussing with a seam on her new dress. Laudna’s blouse was tattered and stained with a thick substance that did not match her ichor’s usual viscosity. 

Laudna had stood abruptly, muttering something about air, and disappeared outside. After making puzzled eye contact with Ashton, who tossed his head at the door and sighed heavily, Imogen followed her. 

She had found Laudna around the corner, curled into herself against the wall of the Spire by Fire. A feral thing, hardened and reshaped by whatever circumstances found her while they were apart. 

She has not calmed yet, and Imogen is reluctant to curb the swell of emotion that has Laudna dangling by a thread. She is tangled in it, ensnared in a knotted web, and Imogen is unsure how to extricate her. She is all jagged pieces and raw edges, a tempest of fury and loss that Imogen cannot rely on her mental connection to unravel. Laudna is something of a mystery to her now in a way she has never been, and it’s all Imogen can do to not toss her circlet to the winds. 

Instead, she waits. 

Laudna is muttering to herself, tugging at her clothes. Pâté flaps about her head, wings of sinew and bone making an abominably wet sound Imogen hadn’t realized she’d missed. The tip of one wing tangles in Laudna’s hair, and she swats at him irritably, sending him tumbling through the air until he manages to right himself. Imogen extends a hand, and he flies to her, settling in her palm on his hindquarters. He gives a disgruntled shake, and his wings squelch back into his body, tail coming to rest around his paws. He peers up at Imogen, then looks back to Laudna.  

“I tried,” he croaks in that gravelly way of his, and Imogen strokes his disgusting little head with one finger. 

“I know,” she assures gently. He could be referring to any number of moments across a lifetime, a few weeks, mere seconds ago. She sets him on her shoulder and feels pinprick claws pierce the fabric of her dress for stability. Crass and wretched as he is, Imogen can’t find it in herself to hate him. He is an extension of his maker, creepy and ungainly and off-putting, so Imogen must love him a tiny bit. She scratches under his chin, ignores the feeling of magic-touched bone, murmurs, “Thank you for keepin’ her safe.”

“Boss didn’t have the best of times without you.” He pipes up, a little rueful, in a manner Imogen assumes is meant to be quiet. Laudna, only a few feet away, catches it.

“Pâté,” she snarls. He squeaks and tucks himself into Imogen’s collar. 

“He’s just confirming what I had already guessed,” Imogen defends, an attempt at lightness that doesn’t quite land. “It’s not his fault you haven’t told me anything.” 

“He ought to have stayed in my head. Then he might leave well enough alone,” Launda warns. 

“You don’t mean that,” Imogen counters calmly. 

Laudna spits, “He should have stayed dead.”

“Hey.” 

She huffs a sardonic, dry laugh. “Not everyone deserves second chances.” 

Imogen inhales sharply.

There it is. 

“Laudna…” She softens. She cups Pâté protectively. His fur oddly damp against her skin. She takes a cautious step forward. 

The pieces begin slotting into place, building the frame for a jarring picture of something severe enough to reopen this old wound. 

The fight sapped from her limbs, Laudna slides her back down the wall until she sits in the filth and dirt of the alleyway with her knees drawn close to her chest. Imogen winces as rough stone drags across jutting bone and paper-thin skin. 

“Are you… Do you want to be alone?” She asks–because what else can she do?– and half-fears the answer. 

Laudna’s head jerks up, and something Imogen can’t decipher flashes in her eyes. After a moment, her head shakes minutely, and Imogen lets out a relieved sigh. 

Tense silence leaches from the pores of the building’s rocky exterior.  

“We tried to find you all. Every day. We didn’t–we didn’t know where we were. Where anyone was, and–” Laudna breathes at last. “Orym was… was angry. Vengeful. And Ashton…. He was our friend.”

“Ashton?”

“I hurt him,” Laudna continues as if Imogen hadn’t spoken at all.

“Hurt who?” 

She shudders. “I killed him, not Prism.” Inky tears well from eyes pressed shut. Her voice is impossibly soft, hollow, seeming to ask, Do you hate me yet?

The narrative is convoluted at best. Imogen fruitlessly attempts to splice together the fragments of memory slipping through Laudna’s teeth like snowflakes, to arrange them into a cohesive whole among the scraps she gathered at the table. The Issylra group returned rattled, apprehensive and tense, but this is deeper. Laudna is shaken. 

“Wasn’t he a member of the Ruby Vanguard?” 

“He was confused, just like the rest of us. Angry at the gods.” Laudna’s eyes flicker to the glowing red moon. Her fist, clenched in her hair, tightens. “And I killed him.” 

Imogen steps closer. “We’ve all killed people.”

Laudna shakes her head. Her voice hardens once more. “I don’t begrudge you the shopping or fraternizing with royalty or, or whatever else it was,” she says lowly, “But we didn’t have that. We didn’t save a toy store or home-cooked breakfasts. We spent every moment fighting to get back to you. And now,” she swallows, “we must reckon with the cost.” 

She is utterly exhausted; Imogen can see in the dim light. Although bone-weary and at her wits’ end, Laudna’s elegant cheekbones curl with shadows that twist and hide in her skirts. Hunched and fearful as she is, Laudna is still hauntingly beautiful. Something warms in Imogen’s chest. 

“You did what you had to do to survive,” she says, “No one can fault you for that.” 

“I’m sorry.” Laudna’s voice breaks, fracturing in tandem with Imogen’s heart, and she sobs. “I’m sorry.”

“No, Laud, no–” Imogen crouches next to her, yearning to touch, to take Laudna in her arms and bite and hiss and growl at anyone who dares approach. She restrains herself, carefully plucking Pâté from her shoulder and setting him on the ground between them. He turns to her skeptically as if to say, Really? After what she said? Imogen nudges him in Laudna’s direction. He sniffs, beak in the air, and ruffles his fur before bounding to Laudna’s ankles and putting his weird, cold little dead rat toes against her shin. She ignores the pawing fragment of her soul, ashamed. 

“I’m sorry,” Laudna mutters, “I must seem…I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for.” 

Laudna begins incredulously, “I–”

“You survived,” Imogen reiterates, “against gods and people powerful enough to destroy them.” She sighs, “I sent you a message every day, you know? Sometimes more than once, if I’m honest, ‘till my nose bled and Deanna had to patch me up.” Imogen offers a half-smile. “All I got was static. I just had to hope you were out there, somewhere, lookin’ for me, too.” 

Laudna looks as if she might melt into herself, refusing to look at Imogen. Her shoulders shake, and she confesses with a gasp, “She’s back. I brought her back.” 

Imogen’s blood chills, but her tone remains neutral. “Who, Laud?” 

At last, Laudna meets her gaze, eyes wide and wet and horror-struck. “Delilah.”

The name hangs between them like a stone ready to drop and shatter and bury itself into their flesh. Searing rage erupts in Imogen’s veins. 

“I’m sorry,” Laudna shrinks back, “I’m so sorry. To all of you. You all gave so much to–to find me. And–”

“It’s not your fault,” Imogen interjects.

“–and I wasn’t…I was weak. I lost control.” 

“Laudna,” Imogen cuts her off with the steely calm of a thunderstorm on the horizon. She cannot afford to process this now, not when Laudna is trembling in an alley. Not when Laudna, unmoored and terrified, needs her to be an anchor. No, Imogen will save her questions and unfiltered anger, for another time. A time when Laudna is safe and warm and at no risk of coming unraveled in her hands. When Laudna is in a place to know Imogen’s wrath is not, could never be, directed at her.

“Laudna,” Imogen repeats, because she cannot bear the thought of her not understanding, “this is not your fault. None of this.” She does reach out, then, offering a lifeline should Laudna choose to accept it. She does, hesitantly, as if waiting for Imogen to recoil. Her fingers are cool, bird-light against Imogen’s red-scarred palm. Laudna seems to notice at the same time.

“Imogen,” she exclaims, words still tear-tinged and quivering, “your hands. They’re–are you alright?”

“Oh, they–they don’t hurt, usually. Promise. I’m fine.”

“I should have–I’m sorry, I suppose I was–”

“Laudna,” Imogen interrupts again, not unkindly, “please.” 

It’s then that Laudna seems to notice Pâté clawing his way up her skirt. She scoops him up and holds him to her, murmuring apologies into his fur.

“‘S’okay, boss,” he rasps, squished against his maker’s chest, “I can’t hold a grudge.”

They sit like that, hand-in-hand, hand-on-rat, until the easy stroke of Imogen’s thumb against Laudna’s has smoothed out the worst of the jagged edges. Until the tension falls from Laudna’s spine and she relaxes into Imogen’s touch. 

“The others are surely wondering where we’ve gone.”

Imogen shrugs, snorts, “There’re so many people at that table I think they’d hardly notice two missing.”

“Still,” Laudna says, “we ought to get back.”

“Do you want to?” It’s her choice. It always will be if Imogen can help it.

Laudna considers. “I think I’d rather like to hear the end of Chetney’s story from the Savalirwood.”

“Oh gods,” Imogen groans, flushing at the memory, “no, you don’t.” 

“Fearne and Deanna, hm?” 

“Best to let them tell it.”

[thesherrinfordfacility]

lmao guess whos activated ✨blathering oaf mode✨ again (clue: its me)

(cut because length and spoilers, read at your own peril)

so this post got me spiralling into detective mode again and yes i know douglas suggesting it might have been war/pollution but i have certified trust issues™ and i dont believe that for one darn second

BUT

i also don't think it's a kiss. lemme explain horrifically

so i took another look at the two frames we have of The Leaked Smooch™ and the background has a lot to be desired (if you take into account that the boys are taking up most of the frame (duh), plus already fairly average quality video PLUS compression from when i captured it)

but i think we can safely rule out that The Leaked Smooch™ doesn't happen in the theatre here, mainly because even though the quality is bad, the glasses in the Smooch™ are crowley's modern ones, not the ones we saw him wear in the 1941 flashback in s1, plus his hair is differently styled... so yes can pretty confidently say this is not the kiss we are looking for

so i wanted to pinpoint what era the theatre bit is actually set in, and therefore i set about identifying the theatre in question. turns out kids that im not a good researcher (despite it literally being my job) so it took FUCKING AGES but i eventually found set photos of the boys entering a theatre, specifically the hippodrome in bo'ness:

now this was a turn-up for the books, because that's crowley's 1941 costume right??? id recognise that iconic fit anywhere. az's costume is trickier to pinpoint bc he wears the same damn thing but pretty sure this is a match to the church scene:

so we know from s1 that we have the church scene yada yada, and crowley offers aziraphale a lift home... which we know he accepts given that the s2 trailer gives us the ✨Dinner of '41✨ scene:

the other bit however to this puzzle is that there ALSO a set pic of aziraphale at the hippodrome in his magician's outfit. given the frame from the trailer where he looks like he's about to brick it going on stage, surrounded by lovely burlesque girlies and dame siân phillips in period dress, AND there were extras on the set dressed in ww2-type army uniforms, so i think it can be fairly surmised that this bit also occurs in the 40s

so my thought process is that we're getting two separate scenes (kinda) from the 40s, we have the church bit from s1 plus the Dinner of '41 scene as its own entity, but then, like

aziraphale is doing his magic act as a side hustle to this burlesque show? and crowley turns up to watch him, hiding out up in the box?

if we follow this completely made up narrative ive just come up with, aziraphale, im assuming, finishes up and gets changed into his normal clothes, and then goes up to this box to meet crowley?

to this end, i captured and slowed down the bit in the opening sequence where aziraphale and crowley (sorry douglas, not buying it) are in the box... and-

now to my eye, the motion of them in the clip looks like they are dancing? i don't have the source to hand but we've had it confirmed that a choreographer was brought into s2, not impossible az would go up to meet crowley after his magic act, whilst there's still something going on on the stage, and the two end up dancing or something? and az bless his heart gets spooked from that?

im reasonably convinced that this might be the origin of the 'you go too fast for me' line - something happens and ultimately aziraphale gets spooked given that he's only just realised he has Feelings for crowley, and so my boy fucking legs it (a lil post i made a while ago about this exact scenario if you'd care to peruse)

other thing to note:

there is a figure that is lurking behind aziraphale and crowley in the box, which looks like it moves specifically in sync with crowley, so it could be a shadow, or someone/thing is in the box that they aren't aware of 👀 so maybe this thing (?) witnesses it all? whatever went down in the box?

so in my addled feral mind, ive come up with a speculation that even as im breathing life into it sounds unhinged and so implausible it's hilarious -

i put to you, members of the jury, that something was meant to happen in that box, and it didn't... that something being that crowley makes a move of some kind - kiss, dance, hug, declaration, WHATEVER - and aziraphale was meant to accept it/reciprocate/idk, but didn't.

and that fucks with the plan, and for lack of better terminology creates a nexus event (lmao thanks loki) which in turns starts screwing with other events, somewhat like i theorised in this post here tehe

are aziraphale and crowley, essentially, the earth's endgame? idk about u but ive read enough angst fics to know that it's not inconceivable that crowley and aziraphale's mere existence may have been part of god's plan to represent free will on earth, defend humankind, and give balance and meaning to it

so what would happen if aziraphale essentially rejected that? did the most human thing possible and resisted the plan? idk i feel at this point i am just writing a fic and this will all be ludicrously incorrect bUT half the fun is torturing yourself over your own theories right 🙃

[danwhobrowses]

My Highlights from ROH Supercard of Honor 2023

Well it's Wrestlemania weekend which means TK is back on his insane booking for ROH. 2 for 2 now he's brought about some absolutely banging cards.

I know there's also Rampage, SD and HOF tonight, but since none are PPVs I'm just gonna do this one today. Mania will be late though since I'll have to watch Night 1 and 2 back to back given how I have family plans on Sunday.

But without further ado, let's see the good stuff from ROH Supercard of Honor

Spoilers for the PPV of course

All the Zero Hour matches slapped

Big pluses for Cobb as well; Omega, Moose and Williams matches on the trot takes monster stamina

NIGEL MCGUINNESS! Back on Commentary is nice but I'm sure everyone hopes he can return to the ring, I know some want him in BCC

Mack vs Takeshita didn't disappoint either, love both of these guys and they were just back and forth

Caprice and Ian vibing with Willow's theme

Sterling giving Slim J a spare shirt after ripping his in the entrance

Stu and Slim J are still very underrated, they're both an explosive feral style of wrestler

Ah so the Righteous aren't going to WWE after all, Righteous vs Dark Order might be an interesting feud

The absolute MADMAN TK is to not only book Vikingo vs Komander but to have it open the main show

An apt comment given how I'm gonna watch HOF after but seeing Vikingo is like watching Rey Mysterio's early days

And I absolutely love that Second Rope In-and-out Phoenix Splash

Komander literally ran the entire ring rope length to swanton onto Vikingo out the ring

Yeah give me Vikingo vs AR Fox, (give me Vikingo/AR Fox against anyone really), Blake and Metalik are great too

Surprised the Embassy retained too, given all we've heard about Cage's contract running out it seemed like he'd drop

Athena may be a nasty violent heel but the amount of fun she's having is great to see, she is thriving in this role

The finish was smart too, Athena using the ref to obstruct the Magical Splash/450 and then hit the mid-rope O-Face

Samoa Joe's STF looks painful as hell

Another surprise retaining as well, shame Briscoe couldn't win though

Garcia's been having a pretty good month ngl, matches vs Brody King, Adam Cole and now Tanahashi, definitely been on the up

'You're a wrestler' chants to put Garcia off too, that story ain't over

Evoking Nakamura as well!

Garcia did a stunner to Tana's injured leg, things you don't see too often

New ROH tag belts look neat, same style as the new world title

Doomsday Device from outside the ring was meaty, the proximity to the steps has been making me nervous all show though

Ladder Sandwich as well

Top Flight's...I have no idea what to call it but they propelled each other up the ladder, then they caught a chair thrown at them!

Jose vs Alex finally getting to throw down

I saw that Destroyer coming and it was still INSANE

Glad to see Lucha Bros win, I still backed Aussie Open but not upset with this outcome

FTR are here too!

Moxley here with Yuta is interesting

I also have to give huge props for TK being able to work Shibata into matches which are both hyped and suited for his style. The OC match allowed him to take his time when he needed, and Pure Rules is perfect for his technical style

Shibata using the BCC's Hammer and Anvil

Heel Yoots is great too

Shibata is a wrestling champion again

AEW's Dynamite card is insane, plus Athena vs Miyu on ROH can slap

Claudio went back to the classical version of his theme music, I'll miss the old one but this does match the pompous and cocky energy the BCC are exuding

Eddie going at Claudio immediately, the story we've built wouldn't offer anything less

These two have really been clattering each other too

Having watched the video of their backstory, the Ricola counter/Uraken was still a great nearfall

Meaty gutwrench to the outside of the ring

Kicked out of the Gotch Neutralizer at One!

The finish was greatly heartbreaking, Kingston countering the Ricola with a rana, only to be scooped up and fall a single second short

Shibata making sure Claudio and Yuta didn't jump Eddie

Shibata feuding with the BCC is something I can get behind, Danielson, Claudio, Moxley, there are all dream matches

Eddie saying fuck and shit for a closing promo is very on brand XD

Conclusion

Another great show, it did struggle to match the opener but it got there eventually. No matches were bad and with ROH tapings now TK has been having a lot of fun bringing out the goods without having to worry about ratings. McGuinness back is a big get for ROH as is Shibata as Pure Champion.

Match of the Night: Reach for the Sky Ladder Match Best Attire: Tanahashi, there wasn't any super unique attire but Tana's look is always super stylish Best Performance: This is a tight one, but I'm giving it to Vikingo given how absolutely blockbuster and effortless he is Best Spot: Penta's Mexican Destroyer from Ladder Bridge to outside of the ring's Table Tower

[futzilee]

Guys you'll never believe it I'm indulging in fanfiction culture (it's Chevron and Error time)

Who tf is Chevron? Maybe I'll post ab him once I uh. Learn how to draw 💀

Anyway

“Why do you ALWAYS show up whenever I'm trying to do something?” Chevron snarled as Error, as always, conveniently arrived after Chevron went to great lengths to get rid of Frisk. Error simply closed the portal he came through as Chevron snapped, “Don't you have the ability to destroy an AU without needing me to do the hard part? Oh wait, you can't. ”

Error approached Chevron, his yellow teeth in a wide smile. “You just make my life so much easier… it’s motivating to get to work when the work’s already halfway done, dontcha think?”

The human grasped onto the lingering soul and backed away. Error wouldn’t be destroying the soul this time. This time, Chevron was going to win, and figure out how to get the determination from the soul and put it into his own… somehow. He had practiced since the last time this happened… which was a staggering 3 days ago.

Error shrugged, scraped some monster dust off his teeth, and flicked it back into the dusty atmosphere. Chevron’s chest tightened. “You know, it sure would make my job a lot easier if you just handed the soul over this time. I’m still recovering from the last time you ‘fought’ me.” Error snickered and resumed closing the gap between himself and Chevron.

Chevron wanted to say something but felt Undyne pushing her way to the surface of his soul, leaving him completely unable to act for himself.

“You wanna say that again, PUNK?” Chevron challenged, the cadence of his voice changing slightly to better match that of the Royal Guard’s. He stomped his foot into the ground and grilled it in, leaning forward with his fists pulled up. “I’ll take you out in a fight ANY DAY OF THE WEEK! You’re nothing but a weak-headed, stupid-sighted bully and I, Undyne-Chevron, will strike you down!!”

Error simply waved away the absurdity. “Call me whatever you want. You’re just a freak anomaly that shouldn’t exist. I’ll actually get rid of you this time.”

Chevron huffed out a misshapen spear and clutched it in his hand, summoning more pathetic, crooked spears (half of them resembled unbaked cookie dough) and aimed them all at Error. “Aim” might be too strong a word. It was more like… they flew out in all directions and maybe one or two sort of flew towards Error. The skeleton didn’t even need to move to dodge the attack.

“Nyagh… what the hell?? Why isn’t it working?” Chevron tried summoning another magic attack, sweat quickly forming a puddle on his forehead. Error summoned his magic attack, a gaster blaster, and blasted Chevron.

Chevron forced his way back to the top of his soul, kicking Undyne out of the driver's seat. Though he hated it, Chevron knew this song and dance from way before he met Error. He healed himself with some spider cider he had snagged on his way through the Ruins and cast the magic attack he practiced: a swarm of magic insects.

Error desperately swatted at the bugs while Chevron took a much-needed breath from his inhaler. His attack didn't last long, dispersing mere seconds after swamping Error. The human grabbed at the soul again, Error having the same idea (only his idea of “grabbing” was using magic blue strings).

The skeleton yanked the soul toward him, forcing Chevron to trip and rip a hole in the knee of his black leggings. Error tugged again to get the soul loose from Chevron but he clutched onto it with vigor. Using his free hand, Chevron produced a shovel from his infinitely resourceful sleeve and batted at Error.

The glitchy skeleton threw his arm to the opposite side, slamming both Chevron and the soul into a cavern wall. The shovel went flying into a little pool of water. A cough forced itself out of Chevron's chest, staining the ground in front of him with a splatter of blood. He regained his balance enough to grab onto Error’s strings, going full feral mode and biting at them to try to cut them loose from the precious heart-shaped container of pure determination.

Error’s entire body spazzed out and his already poor eyesight worsened with the addition of a thousand “ERROR” messages. Chevron grabbed onto the strings and forced them off the soul, took another breath from his inhaler, and sent a much smaller wave of insects toward the other.

“UGH… This is so ANNOYING,” Error bemoaned. He took a step back, summoned a dozen more gaster blasters, and fired them willy-nilly. Chevron carefully danced around the Ruins to avoid getting hit and his soul stirred as such a beautiful place was set ablaze. Toriel couldn't stand to watch it, either. She forced herself to the forefront, just as Undyne had.

Wordlessly, effortlessly, Chevron summoned a fire attack and fired it at Error, who finally lost balance and fell into the water. He glitched tf out and fought to get out of the water but found himself slipping. Toriel retreated and allowed Chevron control over his own body once more. Chevron inched towards Error and looked down at him trying to make out what was happening.

“I'll just be taking this. Maybe someone will come and save you. Consider this,” he took another breath, “one victory for me.”

Chevron swung himself around when several red, glitched-out bones flew from Error and impaled Chevron's chest. They ruined the froggit hoodie, too. The human collapsed and coughed out more droplets of blood, clinging to the ground as if it were his lifeline. The ruined world around him blurred and in the corner of his eye, he saw two unfamiliar humans, a man and a woman, hovering over him.

Stay determined.

To ruin the mood, a dark puddle of ink formed just a few feet away from Chevron's dying body. Another skeleton-this one covered in epic paint-splatter tattoos-sprung out. He observed the damage and pulled out his paintbrush to fix the Ruins before returning to Mr. Spazz and Future Tweenage Corpse. He acknowledged the dust and the Frisk corpse and rubbed his eye sockets.

“Dream, I need you in here real fast,” Ink said to the static atmosphere, summoning another skeleton. This one had the coolest outfit of them all—a golden cape-dress-thing, a sleeveless top with bicep-length gloves, a bow (for shooting), and a crown. He was also the guardian of all positive feelings.

“Yeah, Ink?” Dream collected himself and observed his surroundings. “Ah, oh.” He looked down at Chevron. “There's so many feelings coming from them.”

“Cthulu?” Ink questioned.

“Stripe,” Error corrected, still spazzing out in the pool.

Ink was already spaced out from the conversation.

“No… his name was… um…” Dream pressed a thumb to his chin. “Shelly… no…. Shantel…tron? Anyways… it seems so crowded in there… how can so many emotions fit inside such a tiny person…?”

“Uh, yeah, that's cool,” Ink interjected, “but ever since Champaign showed up, they've been having these massive fights with Error and honestly I'd rather hang out in the AUs than protect them all the time, you get what I'm saying?” Ink's left eye looked like it was having a seizure as he tried to wink at Dream.

“You should want to protect the AUs, Ink, but… having Tron around makes it hard for me to find certain people. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?” Dream glanced at Ink, whose face was still seizing. “Oh, okay. I get the kid and you get Error?”

“Yes-siree!” Ink stopped making his face wig out and body-slammed Error out of the water, allowing him to finally stop glitching out. (”Dont TOUCH ME—!!¡¡!”) Dream carefully unskewered Chevron and helped him stand up. After a few pats on the back and some bs Dream magic, Chevron was back to normal. Health-wise. His hoodie and leggings were still ruined.

“What? There's even more Sanses?” Chevron mumbled.

Ink chimed, “Yup-! I'm Ink, this is Dream, and we're sending you on a deluxe vacation!”

Before Chevron could even think to respond, Dream and Ink shoved Chevron and Error through a portal where they landed smack-dab in the middle of an empty, foggy, miserably flat field.

[phoenixyfriend]

Okay so I was watching this video for fic reasons, and after jokingly grading her shoes for combat in every scene, I started poking at what makes the Widows in general have such a different fighting style from, say, Xu Xialing in Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings.

It's utterly divorced in tone! Because, okay, here's the thing: the Widows fight ugly. Even with how they're acrobatic (especially in earlier movies), it's very much a down and dirty style. Not in the sense of "spit in your eye, throw sand, groin shot" dirty, but in the sense of the movements themselves. The Widows fight effectively, but it involves a lot of leverage that gets in way close.

Like the way the Ta-Lo people fight is very... redirecting? They use leverage, but it's distant and elegant, and the Ten Rings people mostly dodge and punch, and it's very direct and strong.

Meanwhile, you punch a Widow? She takes the hit, uses it to pull you closer, and headbutts you until you can break free.

Which imo makes sense, because the Shang-Chi cast fights in really old traditions that go back thousands of years, and you get the feeling that even when fighting for their lives, they're drawing on the fact that they've practiced in very controlled settings, and even grappling is like...

IDK how to describe it.

I keep thinking about how the cage match went, the way Xialing fought, and it's... in theory, as a small woman fighting barehanded against someone she's really angry at, fast and specializing in hand-to-hand against other humans, you'd expect it to be the most similar to a Widow. You'd expect her to have that same energy.

But it's really, really not, because Xia-Ling is still really controlled. She steps back, she kicks and retreats, she does grapple in ways that apply leverage, but it never looks the same type of feral/brutal as the Widows go for, and that's probably part environment, because Xia-Ling was self-taught and she's, especially in that fight, in control of the entire situation because it's her building.

And the Widows, even when in control, always seem a little desperate and a little wild. Hell, it might just be the facial expressions, because the Widows all grimace and bare their teeth in ways Xia-Ling just... doesn't? I guess?

Help I don't know what I'm saying, I just know the Widows fight to get in close and absolutely savage their opponent and the Shang-Chi cast actual tends to keep an arm's length away unless they're in the middle of an active punch or kick

Obviously a lot of this comes down to the genre because Shang-Chi really is a kung fu movie, while Natasha's appearances are way more on the gritty spy sort of vibe, but. Like. Help I need someone to make these words work.

Anyway, have some gifs of Natasha vs. Yelena, Natasha vs. HYDRA goon, Natasha vs. Bucky, and Xialing vs. Shang-Chi.

All of them are incredibly skilled at hand to hand! But holy shit are the Widows brutal about it in ways that you don't see with the Xu siblings.

Anyway, have some gifs of Natasha grimacing when she fights because I got really into finding these:

Like yeah sometimes the director has her make the pretty faces but I'm really amused by how often she just looks incredibly pissed off as she fights.

[sugako]

tied with a bow

suna x f!reader cw: 18+ only minors dni, toys (vibrating panties), (secret) toy use in public/exhibitionism, established relationship, slight dubcon (reader doesn't know they're vibrating panties at first) then consent & enthusiasm, slightly jealous suna, edgeing, accidental ruined orgasm (receiving), public sex/in a bathroom, a handful of "good girl"s, unprotected wc: 2.5k a/n: for the #boys&toyscollab from @fallensvint (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ ty for letting me participate this is such a fun collab idea and i had a great time writing it

"I know tonight isn't ideal, but maybe this will help make up for it."

You turn from your place in front of the bathroom mirror, eyebrows lacing in confusion until you look down at the small bag in his hands. It's a pretty shade of red, complete with matching tissue paper that's been carefully tucked around something inside.

"Rintarou, we already-"

"I know, but I felt like you deserved something more." He cut you off, a small smile curling up the corner of his mouth. You could tell from the held-back expression he was dying to laugh.

Considering it was your anniversary, it was fairly suspect. Suna had a crude sense of humor at the worst of times but had gifted you some practical items and a pretty, delicate necklace with a little black gem held in its grasp. Instead of a nice dinner as you had both originally planned, you were being whisked away to an EJP team event.

When he had been told he was contractually obligated you could feel the disappointment wavering off his body for hours. Though you tried to assure him that you truly didn't mind a free dinner and dressing up - although it came at the price of a little press - he still seemed upset until the day before.

Hesitantly, you reached out for the bag. While he noticed your careful reaction, he didn't make any move to comment, simply letting you find out on your own. The gift was easy enough to spot when you riffled through the paper.

"Lingerie?" You questioned, slowly pulling the black lace from the red package. Shoulders relaxing, you felt some comfort realizing it wasn't something to be worried about. At least, not that you knew yet. "It's pretty." You sighed, unfurling the material.

"Thought you would like it. Wear it tonight?" He asks softly. Smiling kindly, you wrap your arms around his thick shoulders and lean to press a kiss to his cheek.

"Yeah, I think it'll be fine with the dress I have picked out, but why…" a big detail catches your eye and you do a double-take back to your hands, "...why are there ties?"

"Oh," he shrugs, feigning innocence, "I think they wanted to be inclusive, just came in one size. No idea."

The next hour moves quickly between the two of you washing up and getting dressed for the night. Although his closet is impressive, Suna can be particular about his outfit selection. He tells you he wants to look good and professional, it's good for his career, but you think he just likes to dress up nicely at any given chance when he's not in the gym.

As time draws near, you're both nearing the door, smoothing any creases and straightening what needs to be. Though, a moment before you can wrap your hand around the door handle, he's grabbing your arm and pulling you back to his chest.

"Did we forget-?"

"No." He cuts you off gruffly, hiking your dress up with the hand not holding you.

"Rintarou, we don't have time!" You squeak out, fumbling to move his hands away.

"We're not doing anything." He mumbles while reaching back to grab something from his jacket pocket. "Just this," he says as slips the little bullet past the band of your panties, neatly placing it in the little pocket you hadn't noticed until now.

"Ri-rint-!"

"I'm surprised you didn't know what these were to begin with." He chuckles, letting you go and pulling out his phone. "I won't turn it on if you don't want me to, you just mentioned wanting to try-"

"Yes." You answer quickly. A little embarrassed with your own fervor your shift, straightening out your dress although it didn't need it. "I mean, uh, yes, as long as no one can hear it. Could be kinda fun."

His lips curl into a tight smile and he taps a few buttons on his phone, eyes shifting between you and the screen. It starts up quick and fast, pressed well enough against your clit to make you clamp your legs together.

"Rin!" You squeak, grabbing his arm to keep your knees from buckling.

"Whoops," he smirks rather unconvincingly, "Hmm, well it is quiet."

The panties are ruined before you even step out of the car to the event. Suna's hand comes down on the small of your back, holding you close before the crowd can sweep you away. Anticipation swelling in your chest you watch him as he pulls out his phone and flips through the apps.

"Ready?" He leans in to ask, voice barely raised above the gentle roar of the crowd.

"Yeah," you force yourself to take a deep breath and let your shoulders relax. "I'll let you know if I really need to stop for whatever reason." You quickly add, already knowing his next question.

"Good girl." He smiles, giving you back a little squeeze before he taps the screen. The vibe comes to life again, the soaked fabric making it even easier for you to feel it. You take a sharp, wavering inhale through your nose.

It's not as strong this time, but between how good Suna looks tonight, the longing touches you've been sharing since you left the house, and the fact that you're surrounded by people at a professional function, it felt just as dizzying. He would tease you endlessly for how you were reacting no matter what, you already knew, but that only added to the appeal.

The night went on smoothly for the most part. Suna came and went from your side when needed - whether to speak to the press, his captain, or grab drinks and food for the two of you. Though your voice didn't sputter and your body didn't tremble as much as you were briefly worried it would, there was still a certain amount of excited trepidation with every step you took and word you spoke.

While you longed for release and the ache drew up between your legs, you could feel that the two of you were close to the end. Suna had stepped away for just a moment leaving you beside Komori while he asked higher-ups if he was good to leave now. He wasn’t an exceptionally jealous or insecure person, and it was an innocent touch, really. But when he watched as you grazed his teammate's arm with the knowledge that you were ruining yourself, it ticked some feral part of his brain.

Stopping in his path toward you, Suna rips the phone from his pocket and clicks open the app once again for the night. The warning at the bottom of the screen telling him the battery was getting low didn’t even reach his eyes before he clicks the settings up to their highest level.

In the midst of giggling over the odd relationship between Komori’s cousin and one of Suna’s old teammates, both of whom you had met less than a handful of times, you felt the wind get knocked out of you. As you pretend to choke on your drink, you scan the room in a panic looking for him. Before you can spot him, a strong hand pressed into your back, forcing you to stand up straight.

“Oh, hi!” Komori gives Suna a wave and a small grin, clueless to your flustered expression. “We were just talking about Atsum-”

“Sorry,” he really is, “Promised we would head out early.”

“No worries.” He chirps back. “Nice seeing you.” It’s directed at you, but you’re lost. The pulsing between your legs is near unbearable, you’re wound up so tight it’s a wonder you haven’t burst over the edge yet. It’s all you can do to muster out a polite hum and nod to him. Your legs are shaking now, you have to take deep breaths to steady yourself, faking little coughs when moans bubble up in your chest. Suna is saying something else to him, but you can’t quite hear, the pressure in your ears too loud.

Then, without warning, it stops. Fingers digging into the sleeve of Suna’s jacket to get his attention, you give him a sharp tug. When you look, you realize he doesn’t have his phone out and he looks about as confused as you. Realization hits his face like a ton of bricks.

“Not feeling well?” He huffs out at you, less of a question and more of a statement really. You quickly shake your head and offer an apologetic look to Komori. “Sorry, we really do have to go now.”

He barely gets out another polite goodbye before Suna is dragging you out of the venue. You make it to the desolate lobby and are dragged into an empty-looking bathroom before you can even say anything.

“Why did-”

“It died, I didn’t do anything.” He quips, locking the door behind him. “I’m sorry baby, I really didn’t mean to.” Dragging you back to him he traces gentle kisses down your shoulders, already hiking up your dress with a hand that’s traveled to your ass.

“Please, need you, Rin.” Your eyes sparkle at him, pulling his face back up to yours so you can kiss him properly. At first, it’s sweet, tame almost, but your dire need and the fact that your cunt is still throbbing on the edge pushes you to deepen it. Tongue lashing across his, fighting for nothing in particular, everything about your motions and groping hands becomes sloppy and irregular.

“Right now? Here?” He teases out, cradling your cheeks.

“Yes, here. Now.” You demand with your hands already tugging on his well-made belt, struggling with the buckle. Through the silky material of his pants, you can feel how swollen and hard he already is. “Don’t need anything else, just you inside of me.” You continue, half-distracted from tearing his clothes away when his thumb swipes over your bottom lip and presses into your mouth. Without a second thought, you suck it in, lavishing your tongue over his fingertip as you would his cock. All it does is make you needier while your hands tremble around his length, finally pulling him out.

“Such a good fucking girl.” He groans when you swipe over the tip. Steadying your quivering body with two hands tightly drawn over your hips, he flips you around so you’re against the wide sink counter facing yourself.

While you settle your chest against it and spread your legs, he’s making quick work of the ties holding up your panties. “You really did make an absolute mess of these.” He whistles lowly, admiring the spread of creamy slick that’s painted between your thighs. The panties are tossed beside your face, your own smell momentarily taking your focus away from him until you feel the gentle prod of his cock against you.

“Just put it in, I can take it.” You beg, wiggling your hips back for emphasis.

“Bet you can.” He agrees as he pushes in the rest of the way with one fluid motion. A cracked moan breaks from you, and you realize as he fills you out that the cord in you is snapping. His hips barely drag out, shallowly pumping into you.

“Cu-cumming.” You stutter out, hips twitching under his hold. Being on the edge for so long pushed you into such sensitivity, even he’s a little surprised when you start to flutter around him. He keeps up his shallow pumps, wary of pushing you too far when he knows you’ve been teetering at the edge for so long, gently fucking your through until you slump against the counter. “Please…” you weakly call out, still aware of the pleasant draw of his cock that’s nudged deep inside of you.

Not bothering to answer, he offers you a small smile in the mirror, and pistons his hips out at a ferocious speed. The slap of skin and the all-too-loud squelching is making you dizzy, but you can tell by the precious look on his face that you’re not the only one. Suna’s eyes are connected to where he’s getting sucked into your gushing pussy that’s already left a creamy ring at the base of his cock. All he can think about is that you’re wet, so wet, and you’ve been waiting for this all day, waiting for him. Driven out of his own mind by the nearby sensation of you clamping down around him, whining and shaking in his arms, he already feels close.

When he pulls his eyes away from where he’s fucking you, he lands on your face in the mirror. This isn’t perfect, it’s really not. It’s no romantic anniversary night with flower petals and candles, it’s fucking in the bathroom outside a work event. And although he knows you don’t need anything fancy as you always tell him, he feels a twisted pang of guilt and excitement.

Anyone could walk by and hear your unobstructed, pitched moans, his deep whimpers, or the flesh hitting flesh over and over again. At best, this could be a difficult press scandal, but he can’t bring himself to really care, not when you’re begging for him - his cock, his orgasm, he cum to fill you up. His attention is only on you, forcing his hips to thump harder against your backside, balls slapping against your poor, tired cunt that just keeps leaking around him.

You can feel how close he was to his own end, pressure building up in him, cock twitching against you while his resolve falters and his hips stutter against you. The spout of words you had been blabbering on to encourage him got lost as he slams into you with some finality, the warm spray of his cum filling you up from the inside.

Taking a heavy breath he lets himself fall over your back, long torso laying heavy against you. Neither of you attempts to speak, panting and whimpering just above a whisper. After a heavy minute, Suna turns his head to rest against your cheek, giving you a pleased hum.

“Maybe next time I should just keep the battery low.”

[a-plethora-of-peters]

NHO :D

Sorry I didn't see this until this morning but yes NHO the beloveds 💙

*digs into my bag for NHO Lore*

I will admit I don't have too much about Etho or Beef's pasts outside of them being friends for a very long time along with Pause and the rest of the NHO

Extended info under the cut

Uhhh warnings for kidnapping, child abuse, illegal experimentation, implied drugging, grevious injury, altered mental states (Doc did not have a happy childhood for the most part), bullying mention, blood, & mild violence (Bdubs is a good older bro that protects his baby bro)

Doc

Doc is an Anthro Creeper Hybrid. This means that in appearance he looks a lot like a bipedal Creeper. He's got digigrade legs and large clawed hands tho one is inorganic now. He's covered in short to medium length mossy fur (depending upon the time of year) that he can photosynthesize as an extra source of energy and can produce flowers if he feels safe and happy enough. He has no external nose and uses his tongue to smell instead like a lizard (usually licks his lips to hide this). His ears are large and mobile, capable of independently shifting positions to help him hear things better.

Something to note is that Creeper Hybrids are among the rarest of hostile mob hybrids. So because of this he was kidnapped as a very young child and sold to a facility that ran experiments on hybrids.

Doc - known as Creeper-Male-77 or just 77 for short back then - was raised isolated from the other hybrids in the facility which is why many hybrid traditions and cultural things are unknown to him. Most experiments preformed on him had to do with the limits of his physiology and his instincts as a Creeper hybrid. To help keep him from lashing out at them when he grew older, a thick iron collar with a reservoir filled with a potion of weakness was fastened around his neck.

When 77 was 13, they started tests to see how his Creeper instincts made him react to hybrids of other mobs. For the most part he ignored and was ignored in turn by various hybrids unless he or they were deliberately provoked.

And then they introduced a Passing Panther Hybrid into the test chamber.

77 immediately went on the defense while the stranger lashed out at him. 77 ended up losing his left eye to the Panther hybrid's claws and his right arm was ripped nearly fully from it's socket, held in by only a few ligaments. The damage was to the point that the people in charge thought that if he tried respawning it may glitch and he'd end up permadead.

So they gave him rudimentary prosthetics to replace the parts that they had to remove from him and retired him from physical experimentation. They didn't let him go however since again, Creeper hybrids of any type were rare and they could still run tests on his mind.

So they taught him advanced technology and in doing so gave him the keys to launch an escape that freed all the hybrids that they had imprisoned when he was 16.

In the process of fleeing though, 77 took enough damage both physically and mentally to make him go Feral.

Bdubs

He lived in a Feral state for 2 years before Etho found him. Etho is the one to give him the name Doc after seeing how intelligent he is and helped him out of his Feral mindset, and gradually helped him adjust to living amongst humans and other hybrids.

Hybrids that included...

Bdubs is a Passing Phantom Hybrid. This means that he looks human aside from having a pair of large bat-like wings coming from his back, a long bony tail, and sharp fangs. His wings can be folded around his shoulders and the thumb claws hooked together to make it look like he's wearing a weird shaped cloak. His brown eyes turn pure green when he's around people that haven't slept in 3 days or more. He can and will deafen people with his shrieking.

Being a Passing Hybrid, Bdubs looked human until he reached puberty. Then his instincts and internal structures changed first before his outsides shifted to match his new instincts/insides.

One time while he was in the process of changing, he stood up to some bullies for Pungence - also a Phantom hybrid though he's a Centaur and not Passing like Bdubs - and one of them punched Bdubs in the mouth. He had already been losing his human teeth to get ready for his fangs, so he just spat out a mouthful of blood, and 3 human teeth before baring a bloody smile which was a mix of Phantom fangs and human teeth at the bully and beating the tar outta them.