#the nightmare in ivory

[captainsparklefingers]

Gelidon: my fiancee turned into a tree.

Me: ...that's rough, buddy.

[dumpster-fire-sapphic-failgirl]

I feel like CR is missing a marketing venture by not partnering with Bad Dragon to make Geli-dong, the Nightmare in Ivory

[demisexualemmaswan]

...oh my god Bells Hells could run into Gelidon on their way to Aeor

[wardensantoineandevka]

in these trying times on Exandria and Ruidus, as the Vanguard and the Weave Mind chip away at Predathos's prison, as the gods desperately and fearfully search for what defenses they can, as even those not beholden to the divine rally their forces and resources, one does ask: where is Gelidon

[vaporgutz]

Nightmare Axe Luther! Here to end the dream and get poor Sebastian out of there.

(Most of his color pallet is flipped, for those wondering. It's my imagining of his colors.)

[apricote]

meet our heir: thomasin "tommie" baudelaire

[markusyounger]

i want to share about a dream i just had which contained characters from the comic randal’s friends. i illustrated it for your understanding (i did each sketch in a minute or less so i apologize for the quality)

in this dream, i first remember looking into a mirror. the mirror was small, like a picture frame. instead of myself, i saw luther gazing back at me.

i immediately accepted that i was now luther, so i had to go tell my little brother, randal, what was going on.

“Brother, I am having a nightmare.”

my veins were popping out of my hand as i wrapped my fingers over his doorframe. he turned to me

“You are.”

his expression looked almost evil, i still accepted it as normal because i was his brother. i awoke in a start, but not as myself.

i get up, look in the tiny mirror, realize who i am, and go to tell my little brother about the dream i had, and the dream i am in. my veins look like worms trying to escape my hand as it shakes against his doorframe.

my drawing did not do it justice so i will not be showing it, but his head was completely warped. his flesh moved around to a disk like shape, resembling an american football.

he still says the same thing to me,

“You are.”

and i wake up again. and again. over and over and over again

i lost count of how many times this repeated. each time randal was more and more distorted, yet he had the same words for me every single time.

“You are.”

this dream felt as if i was trapped in my head for weeks, in this little loop, until it wasn’t quite a loop.

i wake up, look in the mirror. it’s luther, but the mirror is shattered. the piece of metal looks as if it has been punched by someone right in the middle. the fragments mostly distort luther’s face, but on the edges it is different.

in the top right corner i can see myself, my real self, staring back at me with eye bags that i earned from not sleeping for days. on the middle left edge i can see some of randal’s hair. it looks different from all the other loops, prickly.

in the top left corner, i see my little sister with a black eye smiling somberly at me.

i tried to smile back, but the mirror shattered as i moved luther’s facial muscles. the pieces hit me in the throat, making it hard to breathe.

i continue the loop by walking down to my little brother’s room. he looks warped and emaciated, almost like a malnourished giraffe.

i need to say my line, but the glass sends a shooting pain through my body as i stutter out

“B B B B B B B B B B”

luckily, he finishes for me

“You are having a nightmare”

i seize up immediately. his mouth moves like a wicked stopmotion video, from an eerie line to fully gritted teeth with ever syllable. his entire face is bruised with blood leaking from his nose.

he turns toward me fully with two more words

“Wake up”

so i did. i didn’t wake up as luther. i was really awake, in my body. i could blink. almost instinctually, i start to walk to my little brother’s room, but i remembered i don’t have a brother, i have a sister.

to be honest, i don’t really want to sleep again after that.

[jackbatchelor3]

Oogie Boogie's Song Ken Page, Ed Ivory The Nightmare Before Christmas

🎃🎄

[breathalyzerfail]

The third M9 reunion one-shot is gonna be Gelidon suing Caleb for likeness infringement.

Identity theft is not a joke, Caleb…

[pinipig]

girl it's oct 1 let it gooooo

spoilers:

it's the day after finishing the schism event so maybe that's why

[thedragonagelesbian]

I do love that wotr tells you exactly when your li wants to talk to you as like an official commander's memo

And i love ignoring it for the PacingTM

[erstwhile-punk-guerito]

[twenty-words-or-less]

The Nightmare Before Christmas

Summary: King of Halloweentown Jack Skellington (Chris Sarandon), having grown bored of his responsibilities, decides to take charge of Christmas. Chaos ensues.

A stunning, tight lesson on cultural appropriation, with memorable songs. Holds up after 30yrs. Love story comes from nowhere, though.

Rating: 4.25/5

Photo credit: Rotten Tomatoes

[hauntingsoundtracks]

The Nightmare Before Christmas, directed by Henry Selick

Oogie Boogie's Song, original soundtrack performed by Ken Page and Ed Ivory, written and composed by Danny Elfman

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: nsfw, noncon, yandere, kidnapped reader, murder of nameless side characters

♡ fem reader

Thinking about that moment of violent change you’re forced to go through when your loving boyfriend becomes the terrifying man you don’t recognize—and how it completely eradicates the reality you’d grown so comfortable in, realizing it was all some perfectly orchestrated lie.

Rope burns on your wrists and ankles, tears streaking your chunky cheeks, and a poor soul’s blood on your pretty face belonging to some guy who’d gotten a little too close for comfort.

He’d cut him down like it was nothing.

The knife is held still by his side, a shining red murder weapon, dripping on the floor in the growing pond by his feet. He sighs heavily, casts his head back then looks behind him, beholding you through slim eyes, clicking his tongue, “Look what you made me do…”

He wouldn’t be the only one… several victims followed in his bloody path—witnesses who’d seen him struggle with you, kicking and screaming for all your worth, trying anything to get away. You were all too easily manhandled into the car, and could only watch behind the locked door, banging with bound fists on the glass while he gutted other passersby who’d threatened to call the police.

Driving off, he growls at you, first to shut up and then, “That was your fault—if only you’d been a good girl, none of those innocent people would have had to die.” His knuckles whiten on the wheel, wringing it in his stained grip—scarlet on ivory. “If you don’t want any more blood on your hands, you better sit pretty and not cause me any more trouble.”

You sob uncontrollably and inconsolably despite the threat—you can’t stop yourself—you can’t even comprehend his words. None of it makes any sense. You’d seen it all, and yet you can’t understand it—any of it. You’d watched the sweet guy you knew shed his skin and become a monster right before your eyes. It must be some bad dream, some terrible, awful, horrible nightmare.

But even if it is, you don’t want him touching you ever again. It makes you physically sick to your stomach to think you’d ever shared a bed with him—exchanged sweet nothings in the damp heat of each other. No, no, no, it’s not the same person—it can’t be. It can’t be true. What about the smiles you’d shared over breakfast, those times you’d surprised each other at lunch, all the dates, all the gifts, all the kisses, the future you’d talked about?

You’d fallen in love. But you’ve fallen in love with someone who doesn’t even exist.

He makes sure the door to the bedroom’s under lock and a key he stores somewhere you won’t find it. You squirm in your bonds on the bed when he approaches, shivering with whimpers under his hands, flinching at his touch while he unties you, then cringing as he angles your face to look at him—wanting to pry free, anything not to look into those changed eyes.

You hadn’t thought his build was imposing before, it hadn’t struck you as lethal. Naively, you’d thought him cozy—a big chest and a warm embrace he would scoop you up in, a safe place you could live. He’s cold now, menacing and filthy from his crimes—the body of a killer, a cold-blooded murderer. He’s so big it makes the room feel too small for the both of you. Claustrophobic.

He forces your gaze to him, and it’s all you see, those eyes, those unrecognizable eyes, with that look within you can’t understand, beholding you with burden.

“I still love you,” he states, though it angers him. “Even though you broke my heart. I still love you.”

You shake your head, or you try to, but it results in only tiny tremors caught in his hand where he keeps your chin, bloody fingers buried in your plump cheeks, squeezing so hard you wince.

“But it doesn’t come for free,” he seethes with an awful sneer. A type of grimace you’d never thought him capable of, overfilled with disdain. “My love is earned. And after all you did today, you’re in deep debt.”

He lets go of your face with a nasty shove, taking a mean grip on your shirt instead, using both fists to tear it down the middle. You yelp and cover yourself, but that only angers him further—causing him to grab your wrists and pin them to your side. You think you feel your joints popping.

“Test me, and I’ll hurt you,” he growls, his teeth bared at your ear where your face curls to hide itself in the pillow. “I don’t want to, but if that’s what it takes to make you sorry, then so be it. Be good, and I won’t have to take it that far.”

You lie as still as you can muster while he removes the rest—roughly as he goes—your bra, your skirt, your underwear. You only snivel and toil with the sheets in weak little fists, making your joints cramp up—feeling raw under him, at the mercy of those blood-dried hands.

You understand what he’s about to do, and yet it doesn’t really dawn on you before you hear the sharp ringing of his belt buckle being undone. You don’t look, but you don’t close your eyes either—the room is already dark enough that closing your eyes would make you feel too close to death. So, you keep your gaze fixed to the side, to the stale wall.

The bed bounces you as he shuffles. The urge to run bubbles within, but you know it wouldn’t be to your advantage. So your mind spins, thinking of other possibilities, growing ever more panicked when coming up empty.

He spits on your slit, then rears it with his spitefully erect shaft—pushing in without further prep. And you lose all sense of control.

Twisting at the attack, you scream again, “No! Stop—”

Your hands barely touch him before he’s answered the protest with a tightening grip on your neck. Unrelenting, your throat instantly snares, and you choke on any further outburst.

“I told you,” he chastises. “Why do you have to force my hand, huh?”

You gasp for any sliver worth of air, sipping through the cracks of his chokehold, but it’s very nearly sealed completely shut. You try lifting his grip with your own, both hands holding onto his wrist, wanting to pull loose but achieving nothing.

It’s so pitiful that he ignores the effort. Using his remaining hand to continue what he’d set out to do. Planting his tip at your unprepped entrance, he wasted no time before surging forward.

Your vision starts to spot, and your hands grow weak, barely hanging on.

“That’s good. Lie still and take it,” he groans—his lips on your cheek as he bullies through your dry walls, only aided by his spit. “And I might consider once’ enough.”  

You don’t have a choice, feeling your body go numb. He picks your thigh up over his hip and drives deeper—starting a steady pace without letting go of your throat, squeezing the life out of you. Your hands finally drop, lying limp, and still, you feel it deep within—the thrusting as he beats your sorry cunt into an aching mess, then fills you up with awful warmth.

♡ BNHA – Deku, Kirishima, Hawks ♡ JJK – Nanami, Geto, Naoya

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[markusyounger]

yeah this guy is really starting to freak me out

zoom in on the only half decent sketch, might finish it later