#expendablc

Ah, shit–

The heel of his boot is just lifted off the ground, drawn to a stop mid-step. Chance never does go out of its way to make his life easier. They’re both out in the open, in the middle of Sector 7. People all along the fringes, living their lives. Bad place to start a fight. And what would Betty think of him then, starting random street brawls when he should be trying to find her furry friends?

Cloud hesitates a fraction of a second short of curling his hand around the handle of his sword. Just enough time to sluggishly process the question that follows thereafter.

Now it is Cloud’s turn to stare. 

From the lip of the stranger’s helmet to the glinting pommel of the Buster Sword silhouetted in his periphery. To and from, at least twice. Somehow the attempt at small talk comes as a great shock to him, and the two men are left in an awkward deadlock and an unanswered question left hanging in the air.

“...Yeah. Long as I can remember.”

He’s not even really sure why he bothers to answer, however belated that answer came to be. Pretending he never heard anything in the first place is a far better idea in hindsight, and Cloud still hasn’t decided if this is a roundabout way of accosting him for suspicious neighborhood activity.

“One of a kind. You won’t see another like it. Look, I’m just…”

This sounds fucking stupid.

People you should be following if you’re not already:

@iironbled

@triggxr

@thedirectcr

@seesbright

@ashesincaptivity

@agentxiii

@suitofarmxr

@outlawiism

It’s not the first time he’s seen them, he’s caught sight of the scars on the man’s arm before, but it’s the first time he’s seen a good majority of them. Maybe they’d have shocked other people, maybe made them want to hurt the person who had hurt Sam. But that’s not Thor... he knew Sam had gotten by, that he could hold his own, and he’s guessing many of the scars came from his younger years when he didn’t have quite as much training under his belt.

“Hey,” he breathes out just to make his presence known before he pads over to the bed Sam is sprawled out on. Kneeling down beside the man, he presses one hand to the mattress, the other to Sam’s hip, steadying himself as he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of one scar marring the man’s back. It leads to another and another until his lips have pressed against each bit of slightly raised skin. “There’s no shame in them,” he whispers quietly, “no unsightliness.”

sam vc: his sleepy face in the morning makes up for it

         [   sms   /   sam   /   drafted.   ]   ;    i  miss  you.    

People you should be following if you’re not already:

dailyteamcap

@meldaciomartyr

@agentxiii

@redalloy

@littleostentatious

@chavborn

@youabandonedusall

@expendablc

replied to your

post

:

Could kill you, but is still a cinnamon roll

“And that smile is exactly why you’re a cinnamon role.”