crying

starving

possessed

sopping wet

blackout drunk

holding a baby

after a car crash

looking for a fight

covered in bruises

after being mugged

covered with confetti

severely dehydrated 

angry beyond reason

with a broken arm/leg

covered in blood (theirs)

after having a nightmare

after being missing for days

after the death of a loved one

covered in baking ingredients

about to faint from exhaustion

with a real crown on their head

on their knee, with ring in hand

covered in tiny scrapes and cuts

covered in blood ( someone else’s )

“You little bastar-”

Malcolm stood, stumbling back as quickly as he could- getting grabbed by the hem of his jacket with a very pissed off grip; only registering it for a moment before getting gut punched. 

This man was definitely a brawler.

@danvssomethingorother

@don-fitzcarraldo

@monarchxeffect

As he moved the man to the van, he got in first, still holding his arm and pulling him in. 

Malcolm waited as the man reached back to grab the handcuffs. 

Now or never, right? 

He reached up, slamming the mask to the man’s face; ignoring the pain in his hand. What was that thing made out of?! 

This was not suppose to happen. 

She thought something was up when a lower level was obsessed with Rusty, but she didn’t think they’d actually arch him. 

Well wasn’t there egg on her face now?

She crept around the warehouse, having taken her high heels off to keep from making noise. 

Why was she doing hero work? Where the hell was Brock or Hatred? Who knew. Once the man’s goons had went off out of the room; Sheila ran over, hiding behind the half wall next to the pillar with pipes he was handcuffed to, taking a quick glance around before whispering. 

Who’s the nerdy one here though?

As he came in and set everything down, he sat the clothing down beside Rusty; merely smirking at the bubble wrap his backbone decided to imitate. 

“I think those will fit you well enough.”  Cutting a wider smirk to Sheila, he decided to brat her by bragging on her.