#ccgscythe

[florexfugit]

@ccgscythe​ // x

Dedue had made it a habit not to get involved in anyone else’s business. It was both an integral part of him as well as a way to protect himself against those who looked down poorly on Duscar men, and though his silent nature often led to people speculating about his schemes he much preferred it to being loud.

So when he spotted the young man with the bloody hands, he had a miniature crisis as to whether he should help or not. He decided on the former and put a hand up.

“Excuse me, you seem to be bleeding. Is there a way I can help you with that? I’m not a doctor, but I can see if we can bandage you up.”

[lcvinlight]

ccgscythe liked your post “mm short starter call? no caps ! ”

 “Oh? I’m sorry, my threads right now aren’t ready to be sold right now.” doing crafts as a side project to earn a bit of money to support his baking hobby, he is literally self funding himself right now. But the crimson red threads on his basket were rather...vivid. 

[devianstability]

△┊ @ccgscythe​​  [ robotic sentence starter memes! ]     ❝ “What happens if you’re damaged?” ❞ 

     ❝ well, i’m capable of repairing myself, to some degree. back in detroit, i would be sent to cyberlife and have my memory transferred to another model when i was beyond repair. ❞ connor hums. death, or damage, was… uncertain, now. it made him uncomfortable to know that a bullet was no longer just an inconvenience, but could properly end his life. as far as he was aware. nothing made sense here.

    ❝ i have yet to find any spare parts, but luckily, i am currently in working order. i was specifically designed to be fairly resilient. ❞

[bubonem]

@ccgscythe

Bandaged feet were silent as they walked across rooftops. To Eto, this was nothing more than a stroll, but to others it may have appeared as a prowl. Of course, her cloak and bandaged hands were already stained red, so perhaps the hunt was over.

Amid the darkness of the city, she did not expect to see a crop of white hair. She recognized it, and paused as she placed the young man walking on the sparsely crowded city streets. Oh, she thought, it’s that investigator. This could be interesting.

She silently swept down to the city-level, appearing less than a block’s distance away from where the investigator was faced. Someone dressed in a bright pink cloak was obvious in most situations, but under the light of a streetlamp she was even moreso.

A mask of bandages faced the young man for a moment before taking off in the opposite direction. She wondered if he would follow, but supposed this was one fun way to get her routine exercise.

[gourmetsucre]

@ccgscythe​ // x

His eyes are scanning the crowd, because regardless of Shuu’s refined tastes -- he is a predator. Though he is not hungry he recalls those months, nay, years of hunger that warped his sense of self. It was only his servants led mostly by Kanae that kept him mildly fed, and even that was a struggle.

Though he knows he cannot search for exotic flavors yet, he lets his pride take a hit by admitting he might need to eat something more… bland.

A sigh, his nose tilted upwards as he catches the scent of something… unfamiliar. Human, of course, but different. Suddenly intrigued he searches the crowd, his feet carrying him until he stops behind a small man, white hair and pale, pale skin. He quickly pulls his mask over his face, a crude recreation of his one that he tragically left at home, and follows the man by taking side alleyways and back streets.

As soon as he breaks off from the group and is sufficiently alone, Shuu rounds him from behind and corners him. “Are you lost?” he asks, voice sweet as he leans against the brick wall. “Something here smells so divine, wouldn’t you say?”

There’s a smile, and it feels like The Gourmet is back.

[dimittere]

the sight of body modifications in great supply is a strange thing. the gerudo were no stranger to such things, nor were the sailors and pirates who infested the sea like rats. nevertheless, to see so many who are so young sport such an adornment leaves him speechless for half a second. from his experiences tattoos and piercings were often associated with meaning - weddings or great battles or births … - often, but not always. true as it may be, but he's not met so many YOUTHS fashion themselves in such a way. the fashion choices of this city are … odd … to say the least.

when one teenager separates himself from the crowd, ganondorf almost allows him to move without speaking. curiosity taken hold, he knows he'll have to be sociable sooner or later —- perhaps he should take charge while he can. ❝you,❞ the king says with an incline of his skull. ❝what is the meaning of the modifications to your body?❞ subconsciously, perhaps, teeth wear away at the corner of his lips, mirroring the thread set into the young adult's. ❝or is it simply a popular fashion trend?❞

@ccgscythe liked for a starter.

[fleurteller]

✧. @ccgscythe​  ( sc )

          “I like your hairpins.” Lunafreya says when she’s caught staring a beat too long—rudely so, probably, but she was just curious. Not about the pins, rather, the thread she caught sight of, but decides that isn’t her place to question if she doesn’t want to come across as judgmental. She does genuinely like the hair accessories though.

“I personally don’t have a lot of red in my wardrobe, none at all actually.” She continues, explaining—wonders if it makes her sound boring, but traditions are traditions and bright reds have always been too bold for her usual color palette. “The closest I can get is admiring it on others.”  

[hellshrouded-blog]

                                                                            @ccgscythe​. 

     IT WAS DARK. like it always had been since his rise from the ashes. it knew him. held him close.

                                                                 and he let it.

     he couldn’t quite remember how he got here, and this wasn’t his alley; no mindless chatter over the fire burning in a drum, no “ hey al ” or “ you okay, al? ”-– just the same smell and grime, different scenery. it was better without all the noise anyway, better without the concern, and better without the fear he reaped from simply being. maybe he could finally get that silence he’d yearned for all this time, just some goddamn peace and quiet to piece together his thoughts, his memories… and be alone with them.

     but each time he dared to let his guard down, even for just a moment, the ghosts would gather. fragments would clash and flashes of what had been assailed him. shreds of the past, disconnected, told a story of a man who was, and now no longer.

                                                             a wedding, the bells.     THE THICK AND UNRELENTING BUSH KNEELING TO THE SWING OF HIS MACHETE.                                                   her birthday– he’d given her a dog.                THE STENCH OF BLOOD FILLING HIS NOSTRILS. HE WAS COVERED IN IT.

                                                    and then it all went up in flames.

    “ RRAAAAAAAAAGH–! ”

     al simmons erupted from his reminiscence with a roar, ragged of a dead throat, the dark still with him. he snared a trash can, brimming with the waste of its neighbouring establishments, and hurled it toward the street, with no regard for whomever may be passing. it slammed into the pavement with a metallic CRASH, spilling its contents and rolling onto the road. he couldn’t hear the surprised shouts lighting up crimson lane over the sound of his own grief, and beneath its weight did he drop to his knees, that shroud of red falling about him limply.

     the whole “ pain lets you know you’re alive ” spiel was bullshit– last he checked, he was dead, and pain still paid its regular visits like an old friend.