#guy who split open his chest and just kept jamming metal in until he ran out of space. then fucked his shit up to make more space

[neonhellscape]

redraw [they would not kiss so i opted for a fitting alternative [stabbing and strangling]]. also what i figure pasqal looks like under his robes bc i keep seeing people thinking of him as just a normal guy under there and i have opinions about this

[ego-to-ego]

The Host vs Antisepticeye

The Host absolutely hates Anti’s guts. That isn’t exactly an uncommon sentiment, to be fair. No one would ever really describe the glitch as likeable, and the Ipliers are no exception. The childlike bounciness and flippancy with a knife were nothing new, Wilford had all that and more. What Will didn’t capture was the utter smugness in everything he did. Wilford was annoying, sure, but Anti took pleasure in it.

Which was why when the Host confronted him with the petty crime of ripping apart one of his books, Anti didn’t back down. Instead he went on a stabbing spree, taking his knife to an entire shelf of the Host’s books before getting bored.

It was a fixable problem. A fixable problem that took effort the Host didn’t want to expend. Not when he had already been running for weeks off of coffee fumes and pure tension.

Ashamedly, it took Host three days to realize anything was wrong with his library at all. He had grown so familiar with the space that he didn’t bother to narrate it at all anymore. It wasn’t until he decided to take a different route to his recording space and promptly fell on his face that he found the mangled remains of his books scattered all over the floor.

If the Host was in his right mind he would have taken the elevator to another floor rather than summon the demon right there in his library, but, well, he was angry.

The Host pulled his strength together and growled another narration.

“Antisepticeye suddenly glitches into the Host’s library, falling face-first into the pile of books that he had vandalized”

And Anti did, groaning as he rolled over onto his back, looking up at the ceiling. His hair was disheveled, bed-head making it stick up more than the fancy gel he used ever could. When Anti saw the Host glowering over him, he giggled, body spasming as a mixture of laughter and glitches ran through him.

“I was wondering when you would notice” His laughter didn’t cease, not until the Host grabbed him by the collar of his T-shirt and slammed his back against one of the bookshelf. Even then, his shit-eating grin didn’t fade.

“The Host does not appreciate his belongings being messed with.”

Anti was quick to glitch out of the Host’s grip, appearing a couple feet to his right. His knife was held loosely in his hand, and he waved it around emphatically as he spoke.

“God, yer just as stuck up as Dark,” he moaned. “Do you guys share sticks or something? Or are you guys not close enough to share things that have been up your ass?”

The Host was starting to severely regret summoning Anti.

“You’re old news, Hosty,” Anti hissed. “You’re irrelevant”

“And Anti is an insolent brat who hasn’t seemed to learn any manners,” Host replied evenly. “The Host thought Dark might have beaten some into him by now”

“That old man?” Anti giggled, twirling his knife in his fingers. “Yeah, he hasn’t done shit. Much like the rest of you. You’re pathetic” Anti held his arms wide, gesturing to the space around him. “All of you are pathetic. Begging for scraps of attention while your creator mocks your very own existence. It’s sad, really.” Anti’s right eye gleamed an emerald green as he continued to speak.

“Me on the other hand? I have everything. The fans scream for me. My puppets fear me. I can do whatever the fuck I want, and you can’t stop me.”

If Host had eyes, he would have rolled them by now. Anti sure loved to monologue, didn’t he?

“The Host recommends they just get this over with and fight already”

Anti’s grin split wider and his hand tightened around his knife.

“I can do that” he said, and then he lunged, crossing the space between them in milliseconds. The Host had already predicted this movement moments before, easily sidestepping out of the way of Anti’s knife. As he passed, the Host grabbed his arm, slamming him against the bookshelf. Or he would’ve, if Anti hadn’t glitched out of the way moments before his head hit the wood. He reappeared on top of the nearby bookshelf, crouched like a cat stalking his prey.

The Host decided he might as well have a weapon, narrating his trusty baseball bat into his hands. It was dusty, even after the travel through dimensions.

When Anti pounced, knife first, the Host stepped back and swung his bat hard, hitting Anti mid air with a blow to his side. The crack of Anti’s ribs momentarily overpowered the sound of the Host’s narrations as Anti flew off course, still managing to twist in midair and land lightly on his feet in a low crouch. He was still grinning, but his body glitched violently from the pain.

“F͠in͠a̕͠l͢͟l͏̛y͢,” he said as he coughed, spitting up blood. “̀͞͏I͘ ̴́g̴͝èt ̵à c̵͘h͟͠al̢͞͞l̡e̷n̵g̸e ̕͡f͟o͘͘r̸̴ ͘͡o̕n̴c̶͠e.” Vibrant red blood dripped down his chin, joining the streaky mess on his cut throat. He wasted no more time before lunging again.

The fight continued this way for quite some time. Anti darting around as quick as can be, a whirl of glitching and lunging and fake-outs but never managing to land a blow on the Host. The Host’s bat on the other hand, was streaked with blood. Anti’s face was a mess, blood flowing freely from his nose and mouth, his neck wound bleeding so heavily it was staining his shirt. And yet, he never faltered, never showing signs of fatigue or even any loss of enjoyment. It had been a long time since he’d faced anyone who posed any sort of a threat, and his fingers were itching to sink his knife right into the Host’s chest.

The same could not be said of the Host. He wasn’t planning on doing this amount of narration today, and the exhaustion was wearing him thin. The words he spoke were starting to get heavy in his mouth, and his bandages were completely soaked through, but he pushed on. He felt relief when he managed to get enough breath to narrate Anti’s knife burning in his hands and shattering into useless pieces. Anti did look rather sad at that, sad enough that his eyes might have teared up a little bit. If you asked him, he would have said that was from the pain of his broken ribs, but that was beside the point.

Anti didn’t take long to mourn, however, instead launching right back into his assault, determined to strangle the Host with his bare hands if need be. He raced towards the Host, and the Host readied his bat, mind desperately trying to grasp at all the possible outcomes of Anti’s movement.

If the Host was at full strength, he would have noticed the sudden tear in reality as Anti glitched again. But he was tired, and his narrations were starting to lag, and a couple seconds hesitation was all it took for Anti to pop in behind him and pull his bandages down to his mouth, effectively gagging him.

Fear spiked through the Host for the first time in a long time, and he dropped the bat, hands scrabbling up to claw at Anti.  However, Anti’s hand was fisted tight in the back of his bandages, yanking his head back and pulling him off balance. The taste of his own blood flooding his mouth made the Host gag. He was truly blind now, any narrations he tried to make were cut off by him choking on his own blood, even before they were muffled by Anti’s makeshift gag.

“Well, that was a fun game but I think we’re done here” Anti wheezed, finally sounding out of breath. Did glitches breathe? They bled, and ate, and slept...occasionally, and Anti sure was breathing heavily now, but shouldn’t the cut in his neck make it hard to do that but maybe it doesn’t reach his windpipe or-

The Host was rambling inside his own head, unable to speak, unable to have any control over the situation at all. His mind was racing, and he completely missed Anti’s next words. Something about...masochism? And it must have been funny because Anti was laughing, and then the Host let out a high pitched squeal behind his gag as he felt sharp, cold metal pressing against the soft skin under his chin. Anti must have pulled out another knife.

“Your face is really pretty, Host” Anti cooed . “I don’t understand why you keep those beautiful eyes hidden all the time. Besides, without this filthy fabric we wouldn’t be in this position, would we?”

Anti pressed the knife harder against the Host’s skin, drawing a single pinprick of blood that rolled down the razor-sharp edge of the knife.

The Host’s fear was melting into anger, which he quickly suppressed into controlled deliberation.

He would have to plan his next actions carefully, which was usually a lot easier when he could see the possible outcomes. But, he knew where Anti’s head was, mostly because the bastard wouldn’t shut up. All he had to do was utilize a weak spot.

And that’s what the Host did, throwing his weight back suddenly and reaching back with one hand to jam his fingers into Anti’s neck wound.

Anti howled, stumbling backwards and releasing his grip on the Host. The Host was quick to rip the bloody bandage out of his mouth, instantly narrating to get his bearings. He pivoted, slamming Anti to the ground with the Host on top of him. He dug his fingers out of Anti’s neck and put them around it instead because that really was disgusting.

“That’s why the Host wears a bandage, fuckface” He growled. It was true. The open wounds on the Host’s face were sensitive, especially if dust or dirt got blown into them. The bandages kept them clean and protected, as well as keeping blood from getting everywhere. Anti didn’t seem to have the same concerns, which is too bad for him, given his current position on the floor.

Anti was beat and he knew it. The glitch looked almost remorseful for a few seconds, staring wide eyed into the Host’s empty eye sockets before giggling again.

“Okay Hosty, you got me. You won. I’ll see you around.”

And Anti glitched, and he was gone. The Host was left kneeling on the floor, his right hand soaked in Anti’s blood and his cheeks stained in his own.

He didn’t know how to feel. He won that fight, but it didn’t really matter. Anti had shown that he could overpower the Host and there was no way he was going to let him forget it.

The Host sighed. He didn’t care right now. He needed a shower. And then a nap. Everything else could wait until later.

[thisnerdblog]

Brucenat + protective Nat? Thankyou xx

They should never allow themselves to become compliant.

It’s what she was taught in the Red Room and it was what SHIELD drove into their skull day in, day out.

It’s what kept him alive all those years on the run.

And yet somehow that most sacred tenet that had kept so many alive for so many years they had forgot.

And look where it had got them.

It had started out like most anything else they were called in to deal with. Maria Hill had relayed information on a possible Hydra lab from a certain One Eyed informant. Considering the source and some promising data retrieved by a few drones Stark had been fiddling around with, they had gone out guns blazing hoping against hope that perhaps this would be the last.

As it was with the Avengers, nothing was ever that easy.

Everything seemed to go down from the get go. As it turned out it, Mandroids were the order of the day. Heavy armored Hydra agents decked out with more firepower than the American army could ever dream of. The small silver lining being that the Mandroids were heavy and clunky and no match for the maneuverability of Iron Man or Thor in the air.

“Son of a bitch greedy cocksucker!” Tony raged over the com link in Natasha’s ear.

She winced, the squealing quality of his voice tickled her inner ear, she dodged just in time as a tree exploded where she was once standing.

“What are you bitching about, Stark?” Natasha asked, digging a finger into her ear as she ran for cover.

“Don’t those things look a little familiar, Red?” He was right, she should have noticed it earlier.

“Hammerbots?”

“A few tweaks, but yeah same damn things.” Tony rocketed over head a pack of Mandroids hot on his heels.

“What are Hammerbots?” Steve’s tinny voice crackled to life, the was a faint thump and crash on his end.

“Sonofabitch Justin Hemorrhoid’s shitty knock off Iron Man suits. I dunno he wanted to be my competition or be me, fuck if I know. He is an anal wart who’s supposed to be rotting in prison, not selling second grade tech to who ever is stupid enough not to look under the hood.”

“You really are taking this personally.”

Tony’s response was drowned out by a sudden strike of Thor’s lightening.

Natasha tuned out the comm links as Clint started to take a perverse pleasure in egging Tony on. She needed to pay attention, the Hammerbots had been tough, but these Mandroids where being piloted by professionals and were clearly looking for blood.

With a flick of her wrist she with drew her electrified baton and staying crouched she creeped through undergrowth coming around to a Droids back side. Waiting until the Droid dropped his guard, she rushed from her hiding space and launched herself on to his back. Immediately the Mandroid started flailing and bucking, bullets flying and clawed gauntlets grabbing for her, but she ducked expertly and jammed the tip of her baton into the tiny crack between the helmet and gorget frying the circuits and leaving the pilot trapped.

She slid from the Mandroids back with a sigh and for a moment she thought she could catch her breath, but a rush of jet fuel from above had her gunning for some kind of cover, dodging bullets and energy grenades. They were herding her, she had no doubt about that, and what waited at the end of the line wouldn’t be pretty for her. The boys where busy with their own Mandroid problems, but perhaps one teammate might be able to give her a big green hand.

With a devilish little smirk she took a hard right heading for the echoing growls and crashes.

Hulk was upon her pursuers before she even saw him, barreling from the sky bodily falling upon his enemies like an avenging comet, the ground quaking when he landed throwing Mandroids far and wide in his wake.

“Thanks for the back up Big Guy.” Natasha craned her neck flashing him a wild grin. “You mind watching my back while I reload?”

He growled, crouching over her closing her in the safety of the cage of his thick arms. She could just make out the feral grin, too much teeth and hardened jaw, from where she kneeled reloading her twin glocks and placing fresh cartridges in her gauntlets and her remaining baton.

The Mandroids had wisely fallen back with the appearance of the Hulk. While the Mandroids where a great improvement to the original Hammerbots and even more dangerous than Vanko’s upgraded versions they were of no real threat to the Hulk. His strength far out powered their own, their ammunition had no chance of piercing his thick hide, and the energy grenades only pissed him off. The only thing they had on him where numbers and even that wasn’t much. Here in the protective cage of his arms, with the scent of old leather, pine, and the overwhelming ozone of gamma, she was safe to catch her breath.

“Hulk protect little Widow.” He growled low in his throat, an impish little grin twisted at his lips. “Little Widow can’t handle metal men.”

She couldn’t help the warm chuckle that bubbled up from deep in her chest. “You save my bacon once and you get cocky.”

He knocked his elbow gently into her shoulder.”Hulk save little Widow’s bacon many times, Hulk thinks little Widow is losing it.”

“Oh I’m not losing anything Big Guy, I just know I have a big green fella who’s strong and likes to smash.”He reared back beating a fist to his chest. “Hulk smash! Hulk strongest there is!”

Their surprisingly easy banter was cut short as a single Mandroid fell from the sky. This one, unlike his fellows came packing with an extra large gun slung on his shoulder aiming the barrel strait at Hulk. Hulk raises from his crouch with a cocky grin and cracking his knuckles, a “here watch this” look in his dark eyes.

Turning his focus back to the lurking Mandroid, he sucked in a breath his chest expanding wide ready to unleash a monstrous roar. His mouth had open wide when the Mandroid aimed and shot, the round leaving the barrel with a hollow “fwoom”.

Hulk gagged and stuffed a finger into his mouth fishing out a empty red feathered dart.

He gagged again and stumbled to his knees, the Mandroid’s cry of triumph was muffled behind his helmet.

Natasha jumped to her feat, gauntlets aimed directly at the Mandroid unleashing volley after volley of sparking jumping widow bites. The Mandroid screamed jolting and convulsing with each hit, but Natasha had no sympathy for him as Hulk keeled over moaning. Hulk was invincible and no single dart was going to take him out, not on her watch.

She unloaded both gauntlets into the Mandroid, the haul smoking and left the pilot groaning. With little remorse she leapt and balanced on the droids breastplate viciously popping open the helmet like a sardine can. Inside the pilot was sweaty and punch drunk floating on the edge of unconsciousness, Natasha grabbed his chin reeled back and slugged him right in the nose.

She pulled back and hit again, splitting his lip.

She hit again.

And again.

And again.

“Natasha, that’s enough.”

The soft hoarse voice was enough to still her hand clearing the vengeance from her blood.

She fell from the Mandroid, leaving him to wheeze through his busted nose and chipped teeth. Hulk had shrunk back to small pale Bruce who had wedged himself up on his elbow. His face was sallow and he was sweaty, covered in dirt and leaves, but he was awake and conscious reaching out for her.

She was immediately at his side growling into her comm link for back up. Gently she held him to herself pulling a limb around her shoulder.

“Your going to be ok.” She whispered, gritting her teeth as she helped Bruce along.

“Probably,” His voice was breathy as his head lolled against her shoulder. “Thanks for being my Knight in Shining Armor.”

“Always, Doc.” She pulled him closer in an awkward half embrace.