੭﹕﹒NINI .ᐟ .ᐟ

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ nini !! 19 & they / them 🌺

[scythemares]

and a tobyling!!!! these r so fun to make LOL

[scythemares]

x3!!!!!!! this took so long…

[scythemares]

+ a sneak peak of what i'm working on rn !!! its already fully rendered teehee but you guys don't get to see until i'm fully finished !! :3

[scythemares]

ninaling.......... ninaling....

[sonichugs]

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

── nina the killer !!

discord layout !

like + rb if using ≽^• ˕ • ྀི≼

[sonichugs]

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

── nina and jeff !!

matching discord layout !

like + rb if using ! ˃ 𖥦 ˂

[scythemares]

lineart for nina and the flat colours !!

[scythemares]

nina fanart !! ts took me forever but whatevs

[scythemares]

upgraded to an ipad today :D here's a doodle of me & a friend as animal crossing characters !!

[scythemares]

did they wesker my spamton or spamton my wesker?? find out tonight at 6!

[scythemares]

+ more deltarune doodles

spamton's flower is indeed dead because i thought it'd be funny LOL

[scythemares]

very half assed dess wtf drawing. feel free to make into a sticker as long as i'm credited somewhere LOL

[ginazmemeoir]

it’s the 21st day of the 21st year of the 21st century.

you can only reblog this today.

[scythemares]

untitled.

she sat, hands clasped together, pressed against her forehead as tears dripped to the floor. beside her was a glass of crimson wine, filled with her tears.  romayne wished she had seen this coming. this heartbreak felt cold. like concrete dying in her chest, cracking slowly as time passed. it was unexpected, as they always are: top of the world one moment, cut down to nothing the next. why... why is that? was there a part of them that disliked to see her happy, when they were miserable? you do know i'm trying to help, right? mayhaps this is their way of returning the feelings they are most comfortable with, as it is their turn to dwell in melancholia, pain and pessisim once again.

gripping ever so tightly on her palms despite the fact they were burned and sore. her nails dug deep onto corroded strings to give herself a tighter grasp, to give her more hope in succeeding. the wine glass tipped over at the shuffle of her foot; she didn't care. romayne had to stay focused, though her mind drifted through the same, sorrowful thoughts with the help of the wine. after a lifetime of being oblivious to the torture, she tried to let go and move away from society. isolation was the only way out. she realised they didn't care and so she stood up and walked away from them - that fucking rope of hope and everything they did to hurt her.

they said they loved her, yet that was all a lie, wasn't it? all she wanted was their love, their attention - their praise. once they had used her a few times, they threw her out like yesterday's trash. they said they cared! they said they loved her! yet it was all bullshit, just to be used! a few things go wrong, and they tell her over a letter that they're splitting up; however, they said they still cared. that letter sat beside romayne, half-drenched in wine and salty tears. she didn't believe it. she didn't believe them. 

only a lover such as you can cause pain as deep as this. only one all the way inside a heart can shatter it with just a few words. worst part is - they know that, didn't they? they loved her, they needed her, they destroy her... then the music starts all over again.

that was her breaking point. eight hours smiling and she's ready to commit murder in cold blood. her face had became rigid, jaw clamped tight. romayne seethed, incapable of expressing her untold rage that had been left to rot in the shell of her heart. she stood up sharply, as her chair tips backwards - falling with a loud thud. then, romayne made her way to the door, letter in hand. she slammed the door hard; probably startling her neighbours half to death. 

by now, romayne was far from home. she ripped up the letter angrily with her teeth, letting the damp pieces of paper fall to the ground as she seethed quietly. there was a scream from deep within that forced itself from her mouth, all that blind rage and pent up anger released; if was as if her terrified yet angered soul had unleashed a demon. all she could think of was anger. anger. everything was red. the moon was shining brightly in the sky, as romayne gripped the small-ish blade she kept from when she was a mere child. romayne had gone beserk, and there was no stopping her now. her world was a pure crimson, everything having no meaning to her anymore. that made her the perfect killing machine.

[scythemares]

yall ever notice this?

major arcana spoilers up ahead. i have to type this up again so im livid

okay so. yall notice that in Lucio's wing, his paintings all have his eyes gouged out, except for the one in his room and there's that one in the dining room of a goat figure in the middle?

going back to the painting in his room, it dawned on me that before the " ritual " , lucio did not wear eyeliner, i don't think. or at least, not like that. the only thing that it reminds me of is the devil's tarot card, since they have the same eyeliner design. it would only make me question of whether the portrait was truly lucio or not.

if you've played thru asra's route, you'd come across the magician, who says

" Looking like Lucio is easy. "

which would only scream to me that the portrait isn't of lucio and that the magician pretty much foreshadowed the whole situation. i'd go into more detail but my last post wasn't posted and i'm livid over it AND i can feel another headache brewing so i gotta b quick

moving on to the painting in the dining room. it's got a goat like figure in the middle, right? and it was commissioned by bitch bastard himself. i feel like the goat represents lucio, because:

first of all, white fur.

second of all - his horns look exactly like goat lucio's.

third of all - red eyes.

fourth of all, he wears something that looks vaguely like lucio's regular outfit when you see him a tthe masquerade and in his own route when you give him back his old form and in return, he would follow you around

the only thing different is the eyeliner design on his fur, which represents the devil to me. this would say to me that lucio and the devil became one, and it was a subtle hint towards what lucio was planning on doing. merging the worlds of the arcana nd mortals and ruling over them both.

the painting reminds me of a gathering. the other major arcana are there, too, because you can see death in the left corner i think?? it reminds me of a feast. a celebration.

a celebration, because he managed to successfully take over the world.

this would mean that the painting is relating to lucio's success, and that the other major arcana have to submit to him.

ok im done. Good night. My headache has arrived

[scythemares]

to add to this, actually, in nadia's reversed end, lucio claims that he tried to become the devil, becoming the goat ghost was an " accident ". so, it would mean that the painting truly does show lucio in the middle as the devil.

[scythemares]

yall ever notice this?

major arcana spoilers up ahead. i have to type this up again so im livid

okay so. yall notice that in Lucio's wing, his paintings all have his eyes gouged out, except for the one in his room and there's that one in the dining room of a goat figure in the middle?

going back to the painting in his room, it dawned on me that before the " ritual " , lucio did not wear eyeliner, i don't think. or at least, not like that. the only thing that it reminds me of is the devil's tarot card, since they have the same eyeliner design. it would only make me question of whether the portrait was truly lucio or not.

if you've played thru asra's route, you'd come across the magician, who says

" Looking like Lucio is easy. "

which would only scream to me that the portrait isn't of lucio and that the magician pretty much foreshadowed the whole situation. i'd go into more detail but my last post wasn't posted and i'm livid over it AND i can feel another headache brewing so i gotta b quick

moving on to the painting in the dining room. it's got a goat like figure in the middle, right? and it was commissioned by bitch bastard himself. i feel like the goat represents lucio, because:

first of all, white fur.

second of all - his horns look exactly like goat lucio's.

third of all - red eyes.

fourth of all, he wears something that looks vaguely like lucio's regular outfit when you see him a tthe masquerade and in his own route when you give him back his old form and in return, he would follow you around

the only thing different is the eyeliner design on his fur, which represents the devil to me. this would say to me that lucio and the devil became one, and it was a subtle hint towards what lucio was planning on doing. merging the worlds of the arcana nd mortals and ruling over them both.

the painting reminds me of a gathering. the other major arcana are there, too, because you can see death in the left corner i think?? it reminds me of a feast. a celebration.

a celebration, because he managed to successfully take over the world.

this would mean that the painting is relating to lucio's success, and that the other major arcana have to submit to him.

ok im done. Good night. My headache has arrived

[scythemares]

a mortal's rant.

another thing i wrote for halloween - enjoy!

-

There's a rickety ceiling fan stirring up heat and dust in the old desert ruin I call home, while the day comes and goes beyond these heavy red drapes, out there in the sand and the wind and the world of human props and cliched scripts.  I look up and it’s night again, time clattering by, dragging me along inside its belly while it digests my youth, stealing whatever beauty I might have possessed and draining away my belief in the things I once held true to replace it with a crone's clarity and bitterness, the shaman's awareness of the illusion and futility of Man’s reality.

So now I sit here in this familiar chair underneath the tail of Scorpio, counting acne comet scars on the face of the moon, watching, feeling, perceiving countless dimensions of magic swirling around me like dust devils that are always moving yet always still, paradoxes incarnate, waiting to be understood before opening their doors which might allow me admittance to this dark evolution.

Deep in the bleakness of last night's meditation, I opened my eyes to tell my lover, "I'm afraid."  But when she asks why, how can I tell her the things I've seen, the thoughts spinning beyond the realms of human consciousness that can be perceived wholly unto oneself but never discussed without hearing that latent twinge of madness in words that can only fail to convey this inexplicable magic?  How can I tell her I was out there beyond the end of the universe or that the stars are no more than an inch away, or that I was thinking in a language comprised of particles and quantum dances on the razor's edge that splits me into past and future and yet obliterates the "now" utterly, leaving me already dead and simultaneously unborn, but never allowing me to simply be in whatever state is meant to pass for living?

Sadness, thick as chilled milk but more brittle than this summer chaparral, forms the framework of reality upon which the stages and plays are constructed.  How terribly aware of our mortality we are, fragile creatures sensing the predator always nearby, the breath of Death hot as August, cold as the blood of the damned.